THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY 8Z-5 C /3e 1872 The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft/ mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. To renew call Telephone Center, 333-8400 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN L161— 0-1096 i- ' ■f Is' ' ' warn ' u !f • r - , .H- j' \ ’ J -' '■' •;■■ ■ ■ ■ "•*- .. twn/;.ron a little eminence, about three or four hursdred yards from the highway. It was approaclied by a broad and ragged boreen or mock avenue, as it miglit be called, that was in very good keeping with the 45 ^ 8 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. premises to which it led. As you entered it from the road, you had to pass tli rough an iron gate, which it was a task to open, and which, when opened, it was another task to shut. In conse<|uence of this difficulty foot passengers had ma»gs, wlio, partaking of the hospita- ble but neglected habits of the family, first ap- proached and looked at them for a moment, then Avag<4ed their tails by way of welcome, and imme- diately scampered off into the kitchen to forage for themselves. Burke’s house and farmyard, though strongly in^ dicative of wealth and abundance in the owner, were, notwithstanding, evitlenlly the property of a man whose mind was far back in a knowledge of agricid- ture, and the industrial pursuits that depend upon it. Ilis haggard was slovenly in the extreme, and his farmyard exceedingly offensive to most of the senses; everything lay about in a careless and neglected manner; — wheelbarrows without their trundles — sacks for days under the rain that fell from the eaves of the houses — other implements em* bedded in mud — car-houses tumbling down — the pump without a handle — the garden-gate open, and the pigs hard at work destroying ihe vegetables, and rooting up the garden in all directions. In fact, the very animals about the house were conscious of the character of the people, and acted accordiiigly. If one of the dogs, for instance, was hunted at the pigs, he ran in an ap[)arent fury towards that which hap- pened to be nearest him, which merely lifted its head and listened for a time — the dog with loud and boisterous barking, seizing its ear, led it along for three or four yards in that position, after which, upon the pig demurring to proceed any further, he 10 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA, very quietly dropped it and trotted in again, leav* ing the destructive animal to resume its depreda- tions. The house inside bore the same character. Win- ter and summer the hall-door, which had long lost the knocker, lay hospitably open. The parlor had a very equivocal appearance; for the furniture, tliough originally good and of excellent materials, was stained and dinged and liacked in a manner that denoted but little sense of care or cleanliness. Many of the chairs, although not worn by age, wanted legs or backs, evidently from ill-usage alone — the grate was without fire-irons — a mahogany bookcase that stood in a recess to the right ot‘ the fireplace, with glass doois and green silk blinds, had the glass all broken and the silk stained almost out of its original color ; whilst inside of it, instead of books, lay a heterogeneous collection of old garden seeds in brown paper — an almanac of twenty years’ standing, a dry ink-bv)ttle, some broken delf, and a large col- lection of blue-moulded shoes and boots, together with an old blister of French flies, the lease of their farm, and a great number of tlieir receipts for rent. To crown all, the clock in the other recess stood cobwebbed about the top, deprived of the minute hand, and seeming to intimate by its silence that it had given note of time’s progress to this idle and negligent family to no purpose. On the drawing-room stairs there lay what had once been a carpet, but so inseparable had been their connexion that the stairs were now worn through it, and it required a sharp eye to distinguish such frag* THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 11 ments of it as reniained from the color of the dirty boards it covered and the dust that lay on both. On entering the kitchen, Peety and his little girl found thirteen or fourteen, in family laborers and servants of both sexes, seated at a long deal table, oaclj with a large wooden noggin of buttermilk and a spoon of suitable dimensions, digging as if for a wager into one or other of two immense wooden bowls of stirabout, so thick and firm in consis- tency that, as the phrase goes, a man might dance on it. Til is, however, was not the only picture of such enjoyment that the kitchen afforded. Over be- side tiie dresser was turned upon one side the huge pot in which the morning meal had been made, and at the bottom of which, inside of course, a spirit of ri- valry equally vigorous and animated, but by no means so harmonious, was kept up by two dogs and a cou- ple of pig^*, which were squabbling and whining and snarling among each other, whilst they tugged away at tlie scrapings or residuum that was left behind after the slirabout l)ad been emptied out of it. The whole kitchen, in fact, had a strong and healthy smell of food — the dresser, a huge one, was covered with an immense quantity of pewter, wood, and delf; and it was ordy necessary to cast one’s eye towards the chimney to perceive by tiie weighty masses of black hung beef and the huge sides and flitches of deep yellow bacon wliich lined it, that plenty and abun- dance, even to overflowing, predominated in the fami 1 y. The “ chimney-brj^ce” projected far out over the fireplace towards the floor, and under it on each side 12 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. Stretched two long hobs or chimney corner seats, on which a nearly a dozen persons could sit of a winter evt^niiig. Mrs. Burke, a smart, good-looking little woman, though somewhat a'lvanced in years, kept passing in a kind of perj^etual moiion tVoni one part of the house to tl»e other, with a large bunch of bright keys jingling at one side, and a huge house- wife pocket with a round pin-cushion dangling beside it at the otlier. Jemmy Burke himself, a placid though solemn-faced man, was sitting on tlie hob in question c -mplac(#illy smoking his pipe, whilst over tlie glowing remnants of an immense turf fire Imng a singing kettle, and besi«le it on three crushed coals was the teapot, ‘‘ waitin’,” as the servants were in the habit of expressing it, “ for the masther and mis- thress’s breakfast.” Peety, who was well known and a great favorite on his rounds, received a warm and liospitable wel- come from Jemmy Burke, who made him and the L'irl sit upon the iiob, and immediately ordered them breakfast. “Here, Nancy Devlin, get Peety and the girsha their skinfuls of stirabout an’ milk. Sit over to the fire, alanna, an’ warm yourself.” “ Warm, inagh / ” replied Peety ; “ why sure it’s not a fire sich a blessed morniu’ as this she’d w^ant — an’ a blessed mornin’ it is, glory be to God ! ” “ Troth, an’ you’re right, sure enough, Peety,” replied tlie good-natured farmer; “a blessed saistm it is f.)r gettiii’ down the crops. Go over there, now, you an’ tlie girsha to that other table, an’ — whish ! — kick them pigs an’ dogs out o’ the house, an’ be THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADAERA. 13 d — d to them ! One can’t hear their ears for them — you an’ the girsha^ an’ let us see what you can do. Nancy, achora, jist dash a gawliogue o’ sweet milk into tiitir noggins — tln^y’re not like us that’s well fed every day — it’s but seldom they get the likes, the creatures — so dash in a brave gawliogue o’ the sweet milk for them. Take your time, Peety — aisy, alanna, till you get what I’m savin’; it’ll nourish an’ put sirinth in yon.” “Ah, Misther Burke,” replied Peety, in a tone of gratilu le peculiar to his class, “ you’re the ould"^ man still — -ever an’ always the' large heart an’ lavish hand — an’ so sign’s on it — full an’ plinty upon au’ about you — an’ may it ever be so wid you an’ yours, a chierna^ I pray ! An’ how is the misthress, sir ?” “Tiiroth,, she’s very well, Peety — has no raison to complain, thank God !” “ Thank God, indeed ! and betther may she be, is my worst wish to her — an’ Masther Hycy, sir? — but I needn’t ax how he is. Isn’t the whole c )UMtry ringin’ wid his praises; — the blessin’ o’ God an you, acushla” — his was to Nancy Devlin, on handiijg them the new milk — “ draw over, darlin, nearer to the table — there now” — this to his daughter, whom he settled affectionately to her food. “ Ay, indeed,” he proceeded, “sure there’s only the one word of it over the whole Barony we’re sitlin’ in — that there’s neither fetch nor fellow for him through the whole parish. Some peojde, indeed, say that Byran M’- Mahon comes near him ; but only some, for it’s given up to Masther Ilycy all to pieces.” ♦ That 18 to gay, the same man still. 14 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. ^•Fjiix, an’I for one, altliongh I’m his father— amn’t I, llosha?” lie added, good hiimoredly ad- dressing his wife, who had j ast come into the kitchen from above stairs. “ Throth,” said the wife, who never replied with good liunior unless when addressed as Mrs, JBurke^ “ you’re ill off for something to speak about. How are you, Peety ? an^ how is your little girl?” “In good healtli, ma’am, thank God an’^ ; an’ very well employed at the present time, thanks to you still !” To this Mrs. Burke made no reply ; for it may be necessary to state here, that although sh^ was not actually penurious or altogether without hospitality, and something that might occasionally be termed charity, still it is due to honest Jemmy to inform the reader in the outset, that, as Peety Dliu said, “the large heart and the lavish hand” were especial- ly his own. Mrs. Burke was considered to have been handsome — indeed a kind of rustic beauty in her day— and like many of that class she had not been without a a due share of vanity, or perhaps we might say coquetry^ if we were to speak the truth. Her teeth were good, and she had a very pretty dimple in one of her cheeks when she smiled, two circumstances which contributed strongly to sustain her good humor, and an unaccountable ten- dency to laughter, when the poverty of the jest was out of all proportion to the mirth that followed it. Notwithstanding this apparently light and agreeable spirit, she was both vulgar and arrogant, and labor- ed under the weak and ridiculous ambition of being THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 15 considered a woman of liigh pretensions, who liad been most unfortunately thrown away, if not alto- gether lost, upon a husband whom she considered as every way unwortliy of her. Her father had risen into the possession of some unexpected pro- perty wlien it was too late to bestow upon her a 8uiial)le education, and the consequence was that, in addition to natural vanity on the score of beauty, she was a good deal troubled with ])urse-pride, which, with a foolish susceptibility of flattery, was a leading feature in her disposition. In addition to this, she was an inveterate and incurable slattern, though a gay and lively one; and we need scarcely say that whatever she did in the shape of benevo- lence or charity, in most instances owed its origin to the influences of the weaknesses she was known to possess. • Breakfast, at length, was over, and the laborers, with an odd hiccup iiere and there among them from sheer repletion, got their hats and began to proceed towards the farm. “Now, boys,” said Jemmy, after dropping a spittle into his pipe, pressing it down with his little finger, and putting it into his waistcoat pocket, “ see an’ get them praties down as soon as you can, an’ don’t work as if you intended to keep your Christmas there; an’ Paddy the Bounc‘d, 111 thank you to keep your jokes an’ your stories to yourself, an’ not to be idlin’ the rest till afther your work’s done. Throtli it was an uiduckly day I had any- thing to do wid you, j^ou divartin’ vagabone — ha! ha ! ha 1 When I hired him in the Micklemas fair,” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADAIIIIA. 16 proceeded Jemmy, without addressing liimself to any particular individual, “ he killed me wid laugh- in’ to such a degree, that I couldn’t refuse the 'oee- liony whatsoinever wages he axed ; an’ now he has the men, insteed o’ mindin’ their work, dancin’ through the lield, an’ likely to split at the fun he tells them, ha ! ha ! ha ! Be oiT, now, boys. Pether Murphy, you randletree, let the girl alone. That’s it Peggy, lay on him; ha! devil’s cure to you! take what you’ve got any way — you desarve it.” These latter observations were occasioned by a romping match that took place between a young laborer and a good-looking girl who was employed to drop potatoes for the men. At lengih those who were engaged in the labor of the field departed in a cheerful group, and in a few minutes the noise of a horse’s feet, evidently proceeding at a rapid trot, was heard coming up the horeen or avenue towards the house. “ Ay,” exclaimed Burke, with a sigh, there comes- ITycy at a trot, an’ the wondher is it’s not a gallop. That’s the way he’ll get through life, I fear; an’ if God doesn’t change him he’s more likely to gallop liimself to the Staff an’ Bag"** than to anything else I know of‘ 1 can’t nor I won’t stand his extrava- gance — but it’s his mother’s fault, an’ she’ll see what it’ll come to in the long run.” He had scarcely concluded when Ids son entered the kitchen, alternately singing and whistling the Foxhunter’s jig in a manner that betokened exuber- ant if not boisterous spirits. He was dressed in top ♦ Beggary. n THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADAHRA. boots, a green riding-coat, yellow waistcoat, and drab cassimere small clothes — quite in jot-key trim, in fact. Ilycy rather resembled his father in the lineaments of his face, and was, consequently, considered hand- some. He was about the middle size, and remarka- bly well proportioned. In fact, it would be exceed- ingly difficult to find a young fellow of manlier bearing or more striking personal attractions. His features were regular, and his complexion fresli and youthful looking, and altogether there was in his countenance and whole appearance a cheerful, easy, generous, unreflecting dash of character that not only made liim a favorite on first acquaintance, but won confidence by an openness of manner that com- pletely disarmed suspicion. It might have been observed, however, that his laugh, like his mother’s, never, or at least seldom, came directly from the lieart, and that there was a hard expression about his otherwise well-formed mouth, such as' rarely in- dicated generosity of feeling, or any acquaintance wiih the kinder iinpulses of our nature. He was his mother’s pet and ffivorite, and her principal wish v/as that he should be looked upon and addressed as a gentleman, and for that purpose she encouraged liirn to associate with those only whose rank and position in life render^ d any assumption of equality on his part equally arrogant and obtrusive. In his own family his bearing towards his parents wa-^, in point of fict, the reverse of what it ought to have been. He not only treated his father with some- thing bordering on contempt, but joined his mother THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 18 in all that ignorant pride which kept her perpetually bewailing the fate by which she was doomed to be- come his wife. Nor did she herself come off better at his hands. Whilst he flattered her vanity, and turned her foibles to his own advantage, under the guise of a very duiiiul affection, his deportment towards her was marked by an ironical respect, which was ihe more indefensible and unmanly be- cause she could not see through it. The poor woman liad taken up the opinion, that difficult and unintel- ligible language was one test of a gentleman; and lier son by the use of such language, let no opportu- nity pass of confirming her in this opinion, and eslablishiiig his own claims to the character. “ Where did you ride to this morning, Misther Ilycy ? ” “ Down to take a look at Tom Burton’s mare, Crazy Jane, ma’am: — “ * Away, my boys, to horse away, The Chase admits of no delay — ’ ’’ ‘^Tom Burton!” re-echoed the father, with a groan ; “ an so you’re in Tom Burton’s hands ! A swindlin’, horse-dalin’ scoundrel, that would chate St. Pel her. Ilycy, my man, if you go to look for wool to Tom you’ll come home shorn.” “ ‘ Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule Laid a swiiij^ing; long curse on the bonny brown bowl, That there’s wrath and despair—’ Thank you, father — much obliged; you entertain a good o[)inion of me.” ‘•Do I, fiith ? Don’t be too sure of that.” “ I’ve bought her at any rate,” said Ilycy — “ thir- THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 19 ty-five’s the figure; but she’s a dead bargain at fifty.” “ Bought her ! ” exclaimed the father ; “ an’ liow, in God’s name, do you expect to pay for her?” ‘‘By an order on a very excellent, worthy man and genll(*man-farmer — ycleped James Burke, Esquire — who Ims the honor of being father to that crnament of the barony, Hycy Burke, the accom- plished. My worthy sire will fork out.” “ If I do, that I may — ” “Silence, poor creature !” said his wife, clapping lier hand upon his mouth — “ make no ra^h or vulgar oaths. Sundy, Misther Burke — ” “How often did I bid you not to me ? Holy scrapers, am I to be misthered and pesthered this way, an’ my name plane Jemmy Burke ! ” “You see, Ilycy, the vulgarian will come out,” said his mother. “I say, Misther Burke, are you to see your son worse mounted at the Herringstown Hunt tliaii any other gentleman among them? Have you no pride?” “ No, thank God ! barrin’ that I’m an honest man an’ no gentleman ; an’, as for Hycy, Rosha — ” “ Mrs, Burke^ father, if you please,” inter- posed Hycy; “remember who your wife is at all events.” “Faith, Hycy, she’ll come belter off if I forget that same; but I tell you that instead of bein’ the laughin’-stock of the same Hunt, it’s betune the stilts of a plough you ought to be, or out in the fields keepin’ the men to their business.” “ I paid three guineas earnest money, at all events,” 20 THE EMIGRANTS OE AHADARRA. said the son ; “ but ‘ it matters not,’ as the preacher says— “ * AVhen I wa? at home I was merry and frisky, My dad kept a pig and my mother sold whiskey’ — Beg pardon, rnotlier, no allusion — my word and honor none — to you I mean — ‘My uncle was rich, but would never be aisy Till I was enlisted by Corporal Casey.’ Fine times in the army, Mr. Burke, with every pros- pect of a speedy promotion. Mother, my stomach craves its matutinal supply — Fm in excellent con- dition for breakfast.” ‘‘It’s ready. Jemmy, you’ll — Misther Burke, I mane — you'll pay for Misther Ilycy’s mare.” “ If I do — you’ll live to see it, that’s all. Give the boy his breakwhisht.” “Thank you, worthy father — much obliged for your generosity — “ * Oh, love is the soul of a nate Trishman — He loves all that’s lovely, loves all that he can, With his sprig of— ’ Ah, Peety Dhu, how are you, my worthy peripa- tetic ? Why this daughter of yours is getting quite a Hebe on our hands. JMrs. Burke, breakfast — breakfast, madam, as you love Ilycy, the accom- plished.” So saying, Ilycy the accomplished pro- ceeded to the parlor we liave described, followed by liis maternal relative, as he often called his mother. ‘ Well, upon my word and honor, mother,” said the aforesaid Hycy, who knew and played upon his THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 21 mother’s weak points, “it is a sad thing to see such a woman as you are, married to a man who has neither the s})irit nor feelings of a genileman — my word and lionor it is.” “ I feel that, Ilycj^ but there’s no help for spilt milk; we must only make the best of a bad bargain. Are you coming to your breakfast,” she shouted, calling to honest Jemmy, who still sat on the hob ruminating with a kind of placid vexation over his son’s extravagance — “ your tay’s filled out ! ” “ There let it,” he replied, “ I’ll have none of your plash to-day ; I tuck my skinful of good stiff stir- about that’s worth a ship-load of it. Drink it your- selves — I’m no gintleman.” “ Arrah, when did you find that out, Misther Burke ? ” she shouted back again. “ To his friends and acquaintances it is anything but a recent discovery,” added Hycy; and each complimented the observation of the other with a hearty laugh, during which the object of it went out to the fields to join the men. “Tin afraid it’s no go, mother,” proceeded the son, wlien breakfast was finished — “ he won’t stand it. Ah, if both my parents were of the same geome- trical proportion, there would be little difficulty in this business ; but upon ray honor and reputation, my dear motlicr, I tldnk between you and me that my father’s a gross abstraction — a most substantial and ponderous apparition ” “ An’ didn’t I know that an’ say tliat too all along ?” replied his molhi r, c itcliingas much of the high English from him as she could manage: “how* 22 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. ever, lave the enumeration of the mare to me. It’ll go hard or I’ll get it out of him.” “It is done,” he replied ; “ your stratage tic powers are great, my dear mother, consequently it is left in your hands.” Hycy, whilst in the kitchen, cast his eye several times upon the handsome young daughter of Peety Dhu, a circumstance to which we owe the instance of benevolent patronage now about to be recorded. “ Mother,” he proceeded, “I think it would be a charity to n^scue that interesting little girl of Peety Dliu’s from a life of mendicancy.” “ From a what ?” she asked, staring at him. “Why,” he replied, now really anxious to make himself understood — “ from the disgraceful line of life he’s bringing her up to. You should take her in and provide for her.” “When I do, Hycy,” replied bismother, bridling, “ it won’t be a beggar’s daughter nor a niece of Philip Hogan’s— sorrow bit.” “As for her being a niece of Hogan’s, you know it is by liis napther’s side ; but wouldn’t it be a feath- er in her cap to get under the protection of a highly respectable woman, though ? The patronage of a person like you, Mrs. Burke, would be the making of her — my word and honor it would.” “ Hem ! — ahem ! — do you think so, Hycy?” “ Tut, mother — that indeed ! — can there by a doubt about it ? ” “ Well then, in that case, I think she may stay — that is, if the father will consent to it.” “ Thank you, mother, for that example of protec- THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 23 tion and benevolence. I feel that all my virtues certainly proceed from your side of the house and are derived from yourself — there can be no doubt of that.” ‘‘Indeed I think so myself, Hycy, for where else would you get them ? You have the M’Swiggin nose ; an’ it can’t be from any one else you take your high notions. All you show of the gentleman, Hycy, it’s not hard to name them you have it from, I be- lieve.” “ Spoken like a Sybil. Mother, within the whole range of ray female acquaintances I don’t know a woman that has in her so much of the gentleman as yourself — ^my word and honor, mother.” “ Behave, Ilycy — behave now,” she replied, sim- pering ; “ however truth’s truth, at any rate.” We need scarcely say that the poor mendicant was delighted at the notion of having his daughter placed in the family of so warm and independent a man as Jemmy Burke. Yet the poor little fellow did not separate from the girl without a strong man- ifestation of the affection he bore her. She was his only child — the humble but solitary flower that blossomed for him upon the desert of life. “ I lave her wid you,” he said, addressing Mrs* Burke with tears in his eyes, “ as the only treasure an’ happiness I have in this world. She is the poor man’s lamb, as I have hard read out of Scripture wanst ; an’ in lavin’ her undlier your care, I lave all my little hopes in this world wid her. I trust, ma’am, you’ll guard her an’ look afther her as if she was one of your own.” 24 THE EMIGBANTS OE AHADARRA. This unlucky allusion might have broken up the whole contemplated arrangement, had not llycy stepped in to avert from Peety the offended pride of the patroness. “ Ihope, Peety,” he said, ‘‘that you are fully sen- sible of the honor Mrs. Burke does you and your daughter by taking the girl under her protection and patronage?” “I am, God knows.” “And of the advantage it is to get her near so respectable a woman — so hlghlj respectable a wo- man ? ” “ I am, in throth.” “And that it may be the making of your daugh- ter’s fortune ? ” “ It may, indeed, Masther Hycy.” “ And that there’s no other woman of high re- spectability in the parish capable of elevating her to the true principles of double and simple propor- tion ? ” “ No, in throth, sir, I don’t think there is.” “ Nor that can teach her the newest theories in dogmatic theology and metaphysics, together wiih the whole system of Algebraic Equations if the girl should require them ? ” “Divil another woman in the barony can match her at them by all accounts ” replied Peety, catching the earnest enthusiasm of Hycy’s manner. “That will do, Peety; you see yourself, mother,” he added, taking her aside and speaking in a low voice, “ that the little fellow knows right well the advantages of having her under your care and pro- THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 25 tection; ami it’s very much to his credit, and speaks very higiily for his metempyschosis that he does so — hem ! ” ‘‘He was always a daicent sinsible poor creature of liis kind,” replied his mother; “ besides, Hycy, between you and me, she’ll be more than worth her bit.” “There now,Peety,” said her son, turning towards the mendicant; “it’s all settled — wait now for a minute till I write a couple of notes, which you must deliver for me.” Peety sat accordingly, and commenced to lay down for his daughter’s guidance and conduct such instructions as he deemed suitable to the situation she was about to enter, and the new duties that necessarily devolved upon her. In due time Ilycy appeared, and placing two let- ters in Peety’s haiids, said — “ Go, Peety, to Gerald Cavanagh’s, of Fenton’s Farm, and if you can get an opportunity, slip that note into Kathleen’s hands — this, mark, with the corner turned down — you won’t forget that?” “No, sir.” “Very well — you’re then to proceed to Tom M’- Mahon’s, and if you find Bryan bis son there, give liim this ; and if he’s at the mountain farm of Aha- darrn, go to him. I don’t expect an answer from K iihle* n Cavanagh, but I do from Byran M’Mahon ; and mark me, Peety.” “ I do, sir.” “ Are you sure you do ? ” “ Sartin, sir.” 2 2& THE EMIGRANTS OF AHAHARRA, ** Silent as tbe grave then is the word in both cases^but if I ever hear — ” “ That’s enough, Masther Hycy ; when the grave spates about it so will 1.” Peefcy took the letters and disappeared with an air rendered important by the trust reposed in him; whilst Mrs. Burke looked inquiringly at her son, as if her curiosity were a good deal excited. “ One of them is to Kate or Kathleen Cavan agli, as they call her,” said H^'cy in reply to her looks ; and the other for Bryan M’Mahon, who is soft and generous — prohatum est, I want o know if he’ll stand for thirty-five — and as for Kate, I’m making love to her, you must know.” “Kathleen Cavan agh,’M-eplied his mother; “I’ll never lend my privileges to sich a match.” ^ “Match!” exclaimed Hycy, (oolly. “ Ah,” she replied warmly ; “ match or marriage will never — ” “ Marriage 1 ” he repeated, “ why, my most amia- ble maternal relative, do you mean to insinuate to Hycy the accomplished, that he is obliged to pro- pose either match or marriage to every girl he makes love to ? What a prosaic world you’d have of it, my dear Mrs. Burke. This, ma’am, is only an agree- able flirtation — not but that it’s possible there may be something in the shape of a noose matrimonial dangling in the backg ound. She combines, no doubt, in her uniivalle.l person, th^ qualities of Hebe, Venus, and Diana — Hebe in youth, Venus in beauty, and Diana in wisdom ; so it’s said, but I THE EMIGftAI^TS OE AHAPARRA. 27 trust incorrectly, as respects 07ie of them — good- bye, mother — try your influence as louching Crazy Jane, and report fcivorably — “ Friend of my soul, this goblet sip, ’Twill chase the i)easive tear, &c.” 23 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. CHAPTER II. GERALD CAVANAGII AND HIS FAMILY. TOM m’mAIION’s RETURN FROM DUBLIN. The liousft of Gerald Cavanagli, tliongli not so large as that of our kind-lieaiTed fiieiid, Jemmy Burke, was a good sperimeii of what an Irish farm- er’s resilience ottfjht to he. It was distant from Burke’s somevvliat better thati two miles, auil stood almost immediately inside the higliway, U[)()n a slop- ing green tint was vernal throtigh the year. It was in the cottage style, in the form of a cross, with a roof ornamentally thatched, and was flanked at a little distance by the office-houses. The grass was always so close on this green, as to have rather the appearance of a well kept lawn. The thorn-trees stood in front of it, clipped in the sliape of round tables, on one of which, exposed to all weathers, niigliL be seen a pair of largo churn-si ave**, bleached into a wliite fresh color, that c ui'^ed a person to long for the butter they made. On the other stood a large cage, in which was imprisoned a blackbird, whose extraordinary melody liad become proverbial in the neighborhood. Down a little to the right of the hall door, a prelty winding gravelled paihway led to a clear spiing well that was overshadowed by a spreading \^ hiiethorn ; and at each gable stood a graceful elder or mountain-a’assing from the residence of our friend Jemmy Burke to that of Gerald Cava- nagh, considered him^elt in his vocation, the reader will not be surprised to hear tliat it was considerably past noon when lie arrived at Fenton’s Farm; for by this name the property was known on a portion of which the Cavauaghs lived. It might be about the hours of two or three o’clock, when Peety, on ar- riving at the gate wliich led into Cavanagh’s house, very fortunately saw his daughter Kathleen, in the act of feeding the blackbird aforementioned; and prudently deeming this the best opportunity of ac- complishing his mission, he beckoned her to ap- j^roach him. The good-natured girl did so : saying at tlie same time — “What is tlie matter, IVety? — do you w'ant me? Won’t you come into the kitchen ? ” “Thank you, avourneen, but I can’t; I did want you, but it was only to give you this letther. I sup- pose it will tell you all. Oh, thin, is it any wondher that you siiould get it, an’ tliat half the parish should be dyin’ in love wid you? for, in throth,it’s enough to make an ould man feel young agin even to look so THE EMIGRANTS OP AHADARRA. at yon. I was afraid they might see me givin’ you the lettlier from the windy, and that’s what made me sign to you to come to me here. Good-bye, a colleen dhas*'*^ — an’ it's you that's that^wvQ enough.” The features, neck, and bosom of the girl, on re- ceiving tliis communication, were overspread with one general blush, and slie stood, for a few moments, iriesolute and confusem it were almost dazzling. Her full bust, which literal I y glowed with light and warnilh, was mouhb'd with inimitable proportion, and the masses of rich brown hair that shaded her white and expansive forehead, added incredible attractions to a face tliat was re- markable not only for simple beauty in its finest sense, but that divine charm of ever-varying expres- sion which draws its lights and shadows, and the thousand graces with whicli it is accompanied, directly from the lieart. Her dark eyes were large and flashing, and reflected liy the vivacity or melancholy which increased or over-shadowed their lustre, all those joys or sorrows, and various shades of feeling by which she was moved, whilst her mouth gave indication of extraordinary and entrancing sweetness, especially when she smiled. Such was Kathleen Cavnnagh, the qualities of whose mind were still superior to the advantages of her person. And yet she shone not forth at tlie first view, nor immediately dazzled the beholder by the brilliancy of her charms. Siie was unquestionably a tall, fine looking country girl, tastefully and ap- propriately dressed ; but it was necessary to see her more than once, and to have an opportunity of ex- amining her, time after time, to be able fully to ap- preciate the surprising character of her beauty, and the incredible variety of those changes which sus- tain its power and give it perpetual novelty to the heart and eye. It was in fact, of that dangerous description which improves on inspection, and grad- ually develops itself upon the beholder, until he feels THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 33 tlie full extent of its influence, and is sensible, per- haps, when loo late, tba: he is its helpless and unre- sisting victim. Around the two thorn-trecs we have alluded to were built circular seats of the grassy turf, on which the two sisters, each engaged in knitting, now sat chatting an 1 laughing with that unrestrained good liuinor and lixiniliarity which gave unquestionable ])roof of the mutual confidence and alfection that subsisted between tliem. Tneir natural tempers and dispositions were as dissimilar as their persotis. Hanna was lively and mirthful, somewhat hasty, but placable, quick in her feelings of either joy or sorrow, and apparently not susce|)tible of deep or permanent impressions; whilst Kathleen, on the other hand, was serious, quiet, and placid — difficult to be provoked, ol great sweetness of temper, with a tinge of melancholy that occasionally gave an irresistible charm to her voice and features, when conversing upon any subject that was calculated to touch the heart, or in which she felt deeply. Unlike her sister, she was resolute, firm, and almost immu- table in her resolutions ; but that was because her resolutions were seldom hasty or unadvised, but the result of a strong feeling of rect itude and great good sense. It is true she possessed high feelings of self- respect, together with an enthusiaslic love for her religion, and a most earnest zeal for its advance- ment ; indeed, so slroiigly did these predominate in hei mind, that any act involving a personal slight towards herselfj or indiflerence to her creed and its propagation, were looked upon by Kathleen as crimes 84 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADAREA. for which there was no forgi veness. If she had any failings, it was in these two points they lay. But, at the same time, we are bound to say, that if the courage and enthusiasm of Joan of Arc had been demanded of her by the state and condiiion of lier country and her creed, she would have unquestion- ably sacrificed her life, if the sacrifice secured the prosperity of either. Something of their difference of temperament might have been observed during their conversation, Avhile sitting under the white thorn. Every now and then, for instance, Hanna would start up and com- mence a series of little flirtations with the blai k-bird, which she called her sweetheart, and again resume her chat and seat as befn-e; or she would attempt to catch a butterfly as it fluttered about her, or some- times give it pursuit over half the green, whilst Kathleen sat with laughing and delighted eyes, and a smile of unutterable sweetness on her lips, watch- ing the success of this innocent frolic. In this situ- ation we must now leave them, to follow Peety, who is on his way to deliver the other letter to Bryan ll'Mahon. Our little black Mercury was not long in arriving at the house of Tom M’Mahon, which he reached in in company with that worthy man himself, whom he happened to overtake near Carriglass where he lived. M’Mahon semed fatigued and travel- worn, and cotisequently was proceeding at a slow pace when Peety overtook him. The latter observed this. “ Why, thin, Tom,” said he, after the first saluta- THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 35 lions had passed, yon look like a man that had jist put a tough journey over him.” “An’ 80 I ought., Peety,” he replied, “for I have put a tougli journey over me.” “Miislia wliere were you, thin, if it’s fair to ax ?” inquired Peety; “for as for me tiiat hears every- thing almost, the never a word I heard o’ this.” “1 was in Dublin, thin, all tlie way,” replied the farmtT, “ sti ivin’ to get a renewal o’ my hdse from ould Squire Clievydale, the la«idlord ; an’ upon my snugiriiis, Peety, you may call a journey to Dublin an’ home agin a tough one — devil a doubt of it. However, thank God, here we are at home; an’ blessed be 11 is name that we liave a home to come to; for, alther all, what place is like it? Throth, Peety, my heart longed for these brave fields of ours — for the lough there below, and the wild hills above us ; for it wasn’t until I was away from them that I felt how strong the love of them was in my heart.” M’Mahon was an old but hale man, with a figure and aspect that were much above tiie common order even of the betUr class of peasants. There could be no mistaking the decent and composed spirit of in- tegrity which was evident in his very manner; and there was something in his long flowing locks, now tinged with grey, as they rested upon liis shoulders, that gave an air of singular respect to his whole app<'arauce. On uttering the last words he stood, and looking around him became so much afiected that his eyes filled with tears. “Ay,” said he, “ thank God that 36 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. we have our ]»lace to come to, an’ that we will still have it to come to, and blessed be His name for all tilings! Come, Peety,” he abided, alter a pause, “let us see how they all are inside; rni longin’ to see them, especially poor, dear Dora; an’ — God bless me! here she is! — no, she ran back to tell them — but ay — oh, ay ! here she is again, ray darliii’ girl, cornin’ to meet me.” He had scarcely uttered the words when an interesting, slender girl, about eighteen, blushing, and laughing, and crying, all at once, came hying towards him, and throwing her while arms about his neck, fell upon his bosom, kissed him, and wept with delight at his return. “ An’ so, father dear, you’re back to us ! My gracious, we thought you’d never come home! Sure you worn’t sick ? We thought maybe that you took ill, or that — that — something happened you; and we wanted to send Bryan alter you — but nothing happened you ?— nor you worn’t sick ? ” “ You alFectionate, foolish darlin’, no, 1 wasn’t sick; nor nothing ill happened me, Dora.” “ Oh, thank God ! Look at them,” she proceeded, directing his attention to the house, “ look at them all crowdin’ to the door — and here’s Shibby, too, and Bryan himself — an’ see my m ther ready to lep out of herselt* wid pure joy — the Lord be praised that you’re safe back ! ” At this moment his second daughter ran to him, and a repetition of welcome similar to that which he received from Dora took jdace. Ilis son Bryan grasped his hand, and said, whilst a tear stood even THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 37 in his eye, that he was glad to see liim safe home. The ohl man, in return, grasped liis hand wiili an cx])ressi()ii ot deep feeling, and after liaving inquired if they had been all well in liisabsence, lie proceedeil with tlioni to llie liouse. Here tlie scene w^as still more interesting. Mrs. M’Mahon stood smiling at the door, but as lie came near, she was obliged once or twice to wi[>e away the tears with the cor- ner of lier handkerchief. We have often observed how much fervid pivty is mingled with the affections of the Iri'h people when in a state of excitement; and this meeting between the old man and his wife presented an addiiional proof of it. Blessed be God ! ” exclaimed his wife, tenderly embracing him, “blessed be God, Tom darlin’, that you’re safe back to us ! An’ how are you, avourneen ? an’ wor you well ever since? an’ there was nothing — musha, go out o’ this. Ranger, you thief — och, God forgive me! what am I savin’? sure the poor dog is as glad as the best of us — arrah, thin, look at the affectionate crathur, a’most beside liimself! Dora, avillish^ give him the could stirabout that's in the skillet, jist for liis affection, the ciatliur. Hero, Ranger — Ranger, I say — oh no, sorra one’s in the bouse now but yourself, Tom. Well, an’ there W’as nothing wrong \vid you ?” “ Nothin’, Nancy, thanks be to the Almighty — down, poor frlh)\v — there now. Ranger — och, behave, you foolish dog — musha, see this! ” “ Tiiroth, Tom,” continued his loving wdfe, “let wdiat will liappen, it’s the last journey ever we’ll let you take from us. Ever an’ ever, there xve wor S8 THE EMTGEANTS OE AHADARRA, tlii likin’ an’ think in’ a Ihonsand things about you. Atone time that something happened you; then that you Tell sick an’ liad none but strangers about you. Tliroth we won’t ; let what will liappen, you must stay wid us.” “ Indeed an’ I never kneion how I loved the place, an’ you a 1, till I w^ent; but, thank God, I hope it’s the last journey ever I’ll have to take from either you or it.” “Siiib y, run down to — or do you, Dora, go, you’re the soapiest — to Paddy Mullen’s and Jemrny Kelly’s, and the rest of the neighbors, an’ tell them to come up, that yonr father’s home. Run now, acu^hla, an’ if you fall don’t wait to rise; an’ Shib- by, darlin’, do you whang dov^n a lot o’ that bacon into rashers, your father must be at death’s door wid liunger ; but wasn’t it well that I thought of having the whisky in, for you see afther Thursday last we didn’t know what minute you’d dhrop in on us, Tom, an’ I said it was best to be prepared. Give Peety a chair, the crature ; come forrid, Peety, an’ take a sate; an’ how are you? an’ how is the girsha wid y u, an’ where is she ? ” To these questhms, thus rapidly put, Peety re- turned suitable answers; but indeed Mrs. M’Mahon did not wait to listen to them, having gone to another room to produce the whisky she had pro- vided fv)r the occasion. “Here,” she said, re-appearing with a huge bottle in one hand and a glass in the other, “ a sip o’ the right sort will help you afther your long journey ; you must be tired, be coorse, so take this.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADAIIRA. 39 “Aisy, llndget,” exclaimed licr husband, “ don’t fill it; yoii’ii make me “Throth an’ I will fill it,” slie replied, ‘‘ ay, an’ put a heap on it. Tiiere now, finish that bumper.” The old man, with a smiling and happy face, re- ceived the glass, and taking his wile’s liand in his looked at her, and then upon them all, with an ex- pression of deep emotion. “Bridget, your health; childre’, all your healths; and here’s to Cirriglavss, an’ may we long live happy in it, as we will, plase God ! Peety, not forgettiii’ you ! ” We need hardly say that the glass went round, nor that Peety was not omitted in the hospitality any more than in the toast. “Here, Bryai»,” said Mrs. M’Mahon, “lay that bottle on the dresser, it’s not worth while puttin’ it past till tlie neighbors comes up ; an’ its they that’ll be the glad neighbors to see you safe back agin, Tom.” In this she spoke truth. Honest and hearty was the welcome lie received from them, as with spark* ling eyes and a warm grasp they greeted him on Ids return. Not only had Padf Ballyrnacan. After the usual preliniinary inquiries as to health, Ilvcy opene I the m.itier: — “I asked you to lend me tive-and-thirty pounds lo secure Crazy Jane,” said he, ‘‘and you didn’t even answer my letter. I admit I’m pretty deeply in your debt, as it is, my dear Bryan, but you know i’m safe.” “ I’m not at tliis moment thinking much of money matters, Ilycy ; but, as yo»i like plain speaking, I tell you candidly that 1*11 lend you no money.” Ilycy’s manner changed all at once ; he looked at M'Mahon for nearly a minute, and said in quite a ditlVrent tone — “ What is the cause of this coldness, Bryan ? have I olFended you ? ” “Not knowingly — but you /iaye offended me ; an’ that’s all I’ll say' about it.” “ I’m not aware of it,” replied the other — “ my word and honor I’m not.” Brynn felt himself in a position of peculiar diffi- culty; he couhl not openly quarrel with Hycy, un- less he made up his mind to disclose the grounds of the dispute, which, as matters then stood between him and Kailileen C ivanagh, to whom he liad not actually d« dared his affection, would have been an act of great presumption on his ])art. “ Good-bye, Hycy,” said he; “I have tould you my mind, and now I’ve done with it,” “With all my heart!” said the other — “that’s a matter of taste on your part. You’re offended, you THE EMIGRANTS OF AHAEARRA, 4t say; yet you choose to put tlie offence in your pock- et. It’s all right, I suppose — but you know best. Good-bye to you, at all events,” lie added; “be a good boy and take care of yourself.” M’Malion nodded with good-humored contempt in return, but spoke not. “ By all that deserves an oath,” exclaimed ITycy, looking bitterly after him, “if I should live to the. day of judgment ril never forgive you your insult- ing conduct this day — and that I’ll soon make you feel to your cost !” This misunderstanding between the two friends caused Ilycy to feel much mortification and disap- pointment. After leaving M’Mahon, he went through the market evidently with some particular purpose in view, if one could judge from his man- ner. He first proceeded to the turf-marker, and looked with a searching eye among those who stood wailing to dispose of their loads. From this local- ity he turned his steps successively to other parts of the town, still looking keenly about him as he went along. At length he seemed disappointed or indifferent, it was difficult to say which, and stood coiling the lash of his whip in the dust, sometimes quite unconsciously, and sometimes as if a wager depended on the success with which he did it — when on looking down the street he observed a lit- tle broad, squat man, with a fiery red head, a face almost scaly with freckles, wi le projecting cheek- bones, and a nose so thoroughly of the saddle spe- cies, that a rule laid across tlie base of it, immediate- ly between the eyes, would lie close to the whole 48 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. front of Ills face. In adilition to these personal ac- coinplishinents, he had a pair of strong bow h‘gs, terminating in two broad flat feet, in complete keeping witli his whole figure, which, ihoiigli not re- markable for symmetry, was nevertheless imlicaiive of great and extraordinary strength. lie wore nei- ther stockings nor cravat of any kinsider- ed the position of lionor sat a country hedge-school- master, liis mellow eye beaming with something be- tween natural humor, a sense of his own importance, and the influence of pure whiskey, fresh, as it is call- ed, from the Still-eye. “ Here, Teddy,” said one of the countrymen, “ will you fill the bottle again ? ” No,” replied Tedd}% who, though as cunning as the devil himself, could seldom begot to speak aijy- thing better than broken English, and that of such a character that it was often scarcely intelligible — “No,” he replied; “I gav’d you wan bottle ’idout payment fwhor her, an’ by shapers I won’ t give none oder.” “ Why, you burning beauty, aren’t we takin’ ten gallons, an’ will you begrudge us a second bott le ! ” “Sidss — devil purshue de bottle more ye’ll drunk here ’idout de airigad^ dat’s fwhat you will.” “Teddy,” said the schoolmaster, “•! drink propin- ation to you as a profissional gintleman ! No man uses more indepindent language than you do. You are under no earthly obligation to Messrs. Syntax and Prosody Grammar, my worthy friend, is banished as an intruder from your elocution, just as you would exclude a guager from your Still- house.” “Fwhat about de gauger!” exclaimed Teddy, * Money. 64 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. starting; “ d — n him an’ sh un-tax an’ every oder tax, l int an’ all — liee ! hee ! liee !” We may as well let our readers know, before we proceed farther, that in the opinion of many, Teddy Fhats understood and could speak English as well as any man of his station in the country. In fairs or markets, or other public places, he spoke, it is true, nothing but Irish unless in a private way, and only to persons in whom he thought he could place every confidence. It was often observed, however, that in such conversations he occasionally arranged the matter of those who could use only English to him, in such a way as proved pretty clearly that he must have possessed a greater mastery over that languasce than he acknowledsced. We believe the fact to be, however, that Teddy, as an illicit distil- ler, had found it on some peculiar occasions connect- ed with his profession rather an inconvenient ac- complishment to know English. He had given some evidence in liis day, and proved, or attempted to prove, a few alibies on behalf of his friends ; and he always found, as there is good reason to believe, that the Irish language, when properly enunciated through the medium of an interpreter, was rather the safer of the two, especially when resorted to within the precincts of the country court-house and in hearing of the judge. “ You’re a fool, Teddy,” said Hogan ; ‘4et them drink themselves blind — this liquor’s paid for; an’ if they lose or spill it by the way, why, blazes to your purty mug, don’t you know they’ll have to pay for another cargo.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 65 Teddy immediately took the hint. “Barney Brogan,” he shouted to a lubberly -look- ing, bullet-headed cub, half knave, half fool, wlio lived about such establislirnents, and acted as mes- senger, spy, and vidette ; “listen hedher ! bring Darby Keenan dere dat bottle, an’ let ’em drink till de grace o’ God comes on ’em — ha, ha, ha !” “More power to you, Vaynus,” exclaimed Kee- nan ; “ you’re worth a thousand pounds, quarry weight.” “ 1 am inclined to think, Mr. Keenan,” said the schoolmaster, “that you are in the habit occasionally of taking slight liberties wid the hay then mytho- logy. Little, 1 11 be bound, the divine goddess of beauty ever dreamt she’d find a representative in Teddy Phats.” “ Bravo ! mastlier,” replied Keenan, “ you’re the boy can do — only that English is too tall for me. At any rate, he added, aj)proacliing the worthy pre- ceptor, “ take a spell o’ this — it’s a language w^e can all understand.” “ You mane to say. Darby,” returned the other, “ that it’s a kind of universal spelling-book amongst us, and so it is — an alphabet aisily lamed. Your liealth, now and under all circumstances ! Teddy, or Thaddeus, I drink to your symmetry and inex- plicable proportions; and I say for your comfort, my worthy distillator, that if you are not so reful- gent in beauty as Venus, you are a purer Imythen.” “Fwhat a bloody fwhine BairlJia-m^n the meeis- ther is,” said Teddy, with a grin. “ Fwhaicks, mee- isthur, your de posey of Tullyticklem, spishilly wid 66 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. Captain Fwhiskey at your back. You spake de Bairllia up den jist all as one as nobody could un- derstand her — ha, ha, ha!” The inasther, whose name was Finigan, or, as he wished to he called, O'Finigan, looked upon Teddy and shook his head very significantly. ‘‘ I’m afraid, my worthy dislillator,” he proceeded, “ that the proverb which says ‘ latet angitis in herha^ is not inapplicable in your case. I think I can oc- casionally detect in these ferret like orbs that consti- tute such an attractive portion of your beauty, a passing scintillation of intelligence which you wish to keep a secret is^ as they say.” “ Mr. Finigan,” said Keenan, who had now re- turned to his friends, “ if you wouldn’t be bet- ther employed to-morrow, you’d be welcome to the weddin’.” ‘‘ Many thanks, Mr. Keenan,” replied Finigan; “ I accept your hospitable offer wid genuine cordi- ality. Tn-jnorrow will be a day wortiiy of a white mark to all parties concerned. Horace calls it chalk, which is probably the most appropriate substance with which the records of matrimonial felicity could be registered, crede experto.'*^ “At any rate, Misther Finigan, give the boys a holiday tomorrow, and be down wid us airly.” “ There is not,” replied Finigan, who was now pretty well advanced, “ I believe widin the compass of written or spoken language— an l I miglit on that sul)ject appeal to Mr. Tliaddeiis O’Phats Iiere, who is a good authority on that particular subject, or THE EMIGRANTS OP AHADARRA. 67 indeed on any one that involves the beauty of elo- cution — I say, then, there is not widin the compass of spoken language a single word composer fraid he might be brought to bed of a mistake some fine day — that’s all I say ; an’ there’s more eyes than mine upon him.” This dialogue was nearly lost in the loudness of a debate wljich had originated with Keenan and cer- tain of his friends in the lower part of the still-house. Some misunderstanding relative to the families of the parties about to be united had arisen, and was rising rapidly into a comparative estimate of the prowess and strength of their respective factions, and consequently assuming a very belligerent aspect, when a tall, lank, but powerful female made her ap- pearance, carrying a large bundle in her hand. “ More powder, Kate ! ” exclaimed Hogan. “ I knew slie would,” he added, digging Teddy’s ribs with his elbow. “ Aisy, man ! ” said his companion ; ‘‘ if you love me, say so, but don’t hint it dat way.” “Show forth, Kate!” proceeded her husband; “ let us see the prog — hillo I — oh, holy Moses ! what a pair o’ beauties 1 ” He then whipped up a horn measure, that con- tained certainly more than a naggin, and putting it under the warm spirits that came out of the still-eye, handed it to her. She took it, and coming up to- wards the fire, which threw out a strong light, nod- ded to them, and, without saying a word, literally pitched it down her throat, whilst at the same time THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 71 one of her eyes presented undeniable proofs of a recent conflict. We Jiave said that tliere were several persons singing and dancing, and some asleep, in the remoter part of the cave ; and this was true, although we refrained from mingling up either their mirth or melody with the conversation of the principal personages. All at once, however, a series of noises, equally loud and unexpected, startled melodists, conversationalists, and sleepers all to their legs. These were no other than the piercing cackles of two alarmed geese which Hogan’s wife had secured from some neighboring farmer, in order to provide a supper for our friend Ilycy. “ Ted,” said the female, “ I lost my knife since I came out, or they’d be quiet enough before this • — lend me one a minute, you blissid babe.” “Shiss, to be sure, Kate,” he replied, handing her a large clasp knife with a frightful blade ; “ an’, Kate, whisper, woman alive — you’re bought up, I see.” “ How is that, you red rascal ? ” “ Bekaise, don’t I see dat de purshaser has his mark upon ye ? — hee ! hee ! hee ! ” and he pointed to her eye* as he spoke. “ No^’ she replied, nodding towards her husband, “that’s his handy work ; an’, ye divil’s clip ! ” she added, turning to Teddy, “ who has a betther right ? ” She then bled the geese, and, looking about her, asked — “Have you any wet hay or straw in the place ?” * A black eye is said to be the devil’s mark. 72 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “ Ay, plenty of bote,” replied Teddy ; “ an’ here’s de greeshaugh ready.” She tlien wraped the geese, feathers and all, sepa- rately in a covering of wet hay, which she bound round them with tliumb-ropes of the same material, and clearing away a space among the burning ashes, placed each of them in it, and covered them up closely. “ Now,” said she, “ put down a pot o’ praities, and we won’t go to bed fastin’.” The dilFerent groups had now melted into one party, much upon the same priticiple that the vari- ous little streamlets on the mountains around them all run, when swollen by a sudden storm, into some larger torrent equally precipitous and turbulent, Keenan, who was one of those pertinacious fellows that are equally quarrelsome and hospitable when in liquor, now resumed the debate with a charac- teristic impression of the pugilistic superiority of his family : — “ I am right, I say : I remember it well, for al- though I wasn’t there myself, my father was, aii’ I often h’ard him say — God rest his sowl ! ” — here he reverently took off his hat and looked upwards — “I often h’ard him say that Paddy Keenan gave Mullin the first knock-down blow, an’ Pether — I mane no disrespect, but far from it — give us your hand, man alive — you’re goin to be married upon my shisther to-morrow, plaise God ! — masther, you’ll come, re- mimber? you’ll be as welcome as the flowers o’ May, masther — so, Pether, as I was say in’ — I mane no oflance nor disrespect to you or yours, for you are. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA.^ 73 an’ ever was, a daisent family, an’ well able to fight your corner when it came upon you — but still, Pt^ther — ail’ for all that— I say it— an’ I'll stand to it — I’ll stand to it — that’s the chat ! — that, man for man, tliere never was one o’ your seed, breed, or genera- tion able to fight a Keenan — that’s the chat ! — here’s luck ! “ ‘ Oh, ’twas in the month of May, When the lambkins sport and play, As 1 walked out to j^ain raycrayation, I espied a comely maijl. Sequestrin’ in the shade — On her beauty I g;azed wid admiraytion.’ No, Pether, you never could ; the Mullins is good ^ men — right good men, but they couldn’t do it.” “ Barney,” said a brother of the bridegroom, “ you may thank God that Pether is going to be married to your sislher to-morrow, as you say, or we’d larn you another lesson — eh, masiher ? That’s the cliat too — ha! ha! ha! To the divil wid sich impedence!” ‘‘Gintlemen,” said Finigan, now staggering down towards the parties, “ I am a man of pacific princi- ples, acquainted wid the lamed languages, wid math- ematics, wid philosophy, the science of morality ac- cording to Fluxions — I grant you, I’m not college- bred ; but gintlernen, I never invied the oysther in its shell — for, gintlenien. I’m not ashamed of it, but I acquired — I absorbed my laming, I may say, upon locomotive principles.” “Bravo, masther ! ” said Keenan; “ that’s what some o’ them couldn’t say — ” “ Upon locomotive principles. I admit Munster, 4 74 THE EMIGRANTS OP AHADARRA. gintlemen — ^glorious Kerry ! — yes, and I say lam not ashamed of it. I do plead guilty to tlie peri- patetic system : like a cornet I travelled during my juvenile days — as I may truly assert wid a slight modicum of latitude ” (here he lurched considerahly to the one side) — ‘‘from star to star, until I was able to exhibit all their brilliancy united simply, I can safely assert, in my own humble person. Gin- tlemen, I have the honor of being able to write ‘Philomath’ after my name — which is O’Finigan, not Finigan, by any means — and where is the oyster in his shell could do that? Yes, and although they refused me a sizarship in Trinity College — for what will not fear and envy do ? “ ‘ Tantoene animis celestibus irce? ’ Yet I have the consolation to know that mj^ name is seldom mentioned among the literati of classical Kerry — nudis cruribus as they are — except as the Great O’Finigan ! In the mane time — ” “ Bravo, masther !” exclaimed Keenan, interrupt- ing him. “Here, Ted ! another bottle, till the Great O’Finigan gets a glass of whisky.” “Yes, gintlemen,” proceeded O’Finigan, “the alcohol shall be accepted, naturalihus — which means, in its native — or, more properly — but which comes to the same thing — in its naked state ; and, in the mane time, I propose the health of one of my best benefactors — Gerald Cavanagh, whose hospitable roof is a home — a domicillum to erudition and re- spectability, when they happen, as they ought, to be legitimately concatenated in the same person — as they are in your humble servant ; and I also beg leave THE EMIGEANTS OF AHADARKA. 75 to add the pride of the barony, his fair and virtuous daughter, Kathleen, in conjunction wid the ncc«»m- ]>lished son of another benefactor of mine — honest James Burke — in conjunclion, I say, wid his son — ]\Ir. Hyacinth. Ah, gintlemen — Billy Clinton, y«»u tliieviii’ villain! you don’t pay attention; I say, gintlemen, if I rnysidf could deduct a score years from the period of my life, I should endeavor to run through the conjugations of amo in society wid that pearl of beauty. In the mane time — ” ‘MIere’s her health, masther,” returned Keenan, “ an’ her father’s too, an’ llycy Burke’s into the bargain — is there any more o’ them? Well, no mat- ter.” Tiien turning to his antagonist, he added, “I say agin, thin, that a Mullin’s not a match for a Keenan, nor never was — no, nor never will be ! That’s the chat ! and who’s afeard to say it ? eh, masiher?” “It's a liel” shouted one of the opp*»site })arly; “I’m able to lick e’er a Keenan that ever went on nate’s leather — an’ that’s my chat.” A blow from Keenan in reply was like a spark to gur^powder. in a moment the cavern presented a scene singularly tragi-Cv>mic ; the whole party was one busy mass of battle, witli the exception of Ted and Batt, and the wife of the latter, who, having first hastily put aside everything tliat might be injured, stood eiijoyiitg the conflict with most ferocious gloe, the schoolmnsfer having already withdrawn himself to his chair. Even Barney Broghan, the fool, could not keep quiet, but on the contrary thrust himself into the quarrel, and began to strike imliscriminalely at all who came in his way, until an unlucky blow 76 THE E]\rTGRANTS OP AHADARRA. on the no»e liappening to draw hh claret very co- piously, he made a hound up behind tlie sill, utter- ing a series of howling-j, as from lime to time he looked at his own blood, that were amusing in the extreme. As it happened, however, the influence of liquor was too strong U[)on both parties to enable tliem to inflict on each other an serious injury. Sucli, Imwever, was the midnight pastime of the still-house when our friend llycy entered. “What in the devirs name — or the guager’s — which is worse” — he asked, addressing himself to Bait and Tedloits. Your horsemansliip, sir, and the intrepid pertinacity witli widch YOU fasten n|)on the reluctant society ol men of rank have given turn a not<»riotis ct-kbrity, of which your worthy father, honest Jemtny, as he is called, ought to be justly proml. And you shine, Mr. Buiko, in the loves as well as in the— tarn veneri qnam — I was about to add Marti^ but it Wi)ulroverb, everything was going to the bad.” Feeling that his brother’s words w^ere unfortunately too true, Wallace at all events, came to the determination of following his example. The scene at wliich our friends arrived was indeed a striking and impressive one. The majority of the crow’d consisted of those who belonged eitlier to the Protestant or Presbyterian forms of w'orship ; and it raiiiht be with truth asserted, that nothing could surpass the clear unquestionable character of inde- pendent intelligence which prevailed among them. Along with this, however, there was an obvious spirit of dissatisfaction, partial, it is true, as to num- bers, but yet sufficiently marked as to satisfy an observer that such a people, if united upon any par- ticular subject or occasion, w^ere not for a moment to be trifled with or cajoled. Their feelings upon the day in question were stirred into more than usual w^armth. A fdend, a neighbor, a man of an old and respectable family, frugal, industrious, and loyal, as they said, both to king and country, w^as now forced from w^ant of due encouragement from his landlord, THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 103 to disturb all his old associations of friendsldp and kindred, and at rath’er an advanced slate of life to encounter the perils of a long voyage, and subject himself and his family to the changes arid chances which he must encounter in a new world, and in a dilFerent slate of society. Indeed, the feeling wljieh prompted the expression of these sentiments might be easily gathered from the character that perva^ d the crowd. Not to such an extent, however, with respect to Wallace liimself or any portion of his family. There might be observed upon him ami them a quiet but resolute spirit, firm, collected, and cheerful ; but still while there were visible no traces of dejection or grief, it was easy to perceive that under this decent comj)osure there existed a calm consciousness of strong stern feeling, whose dignity, if not so touching, was quite as impressive as the exhibition of louder and more clamorous grief. “ Bryan,” said M’MhIioii to his son, as the auction w^as proceeding, ‘‘I’ll slip up to the agent’s, and do you see if them sheep goes for a fair value — if they do, give a bid or two, any how. I’m speak in’ of that lot we wor b okin’ at, next the wall there.” “I’ll pay attention to it,” said Bryan; “I know you’ll find the agent at home now, for I seen him goin’ in a wdiile ago ; so hurry up, an’ ax him if he can soy homsoon we may expect the leases.” “Never fear, I will.” On entering lAthertonge’s Hail, M’Mahon was treated with very marked respect by the servant, wiio told iiim to walk into the parlor, and he w^ould let his master know. 104 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “ He entertains a liigh opinion of you, Mister M’Mahon,” said be; “and 1 beard bim speak strongly about you the other day to some gentlemen that dined with us— friends of the landlord’s. Walk into the pailorV” In a few minutes M’Mahon was sliown into Fetlier- tonge’s office, the walls of which were, to a consider- able height, lined with tin boxes, labelled with the names of those whose title-deeds and other valuable papers they contained, Fethertonge was a tall, pale, placid looking man, with rather a benevolent cast of countenance, and eyes that were mild, but very small in proportion to the other features of his face. Ilis voice was exceed- ingly low, and still more musical and sweet than low; in fact it was such a voice as, one would imagine, ou^ht to have seldom been otherwise em- ployed than in breathing hope and consolation to despairing sinners on their bed of death. Yet he had nothing of either the parson or the preacher in his appearance. So far from that he was seldom known to wear a black coat, unless when dressed for dinner, and not very frequently even then, for he mostly wore blue. “ M’Mahon,” said he, “ take a seat. I am glad to see you. How are your family ? ” “ Both I an’ they is well, I’m thankful to you, sir,” replied the farmer. “I hope you got safe home from the metropolis. How did you travel?” “ Troth, I walked it, sir, every inch of the way. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 105 an’ a long stretch it is. I got sale, sir, an’ many tlianks to you.” “That was a sudden call poor INIr. Clievydale got, but not more so than might, at his time of life, liave been expected ; at all events I liope he was prepared for it, and indeed I have reason to think he was.” “I trust in God he was sir,” replied M’Mahon ; “ so fjir as I and mine is consarned, we liave raison to wish it; he didn’t forget us, Mr. Fethertonge.” “No,” said the other, after some pause, “he did not indeed forget you, M’AIahon.” “ I tuck the liberty of callin’ down, sir,” pro- ceeded M’Mahon, “about the leases he spoke of, an’ to know how soon we may expect to have them filled.” “That is for your son Bryan, and yourself. IIow is Bryan proceeding with Ahadarra, by the way ? I 8]»oke to him some time ago about his system of cropping that farm, atid some other matters of the kind; I must ride up one of these days to see how he is doing. As to the leases there is no difficulty in the way, M’Mahon, except to get our young land- lord to sign them. That we will easily do, of course ; in the meantime do you go on, improve your land, and strive to do something for your children, M’- Mahon ; for, in this world, he that won’t assist him- self will find very few tliat will. The leases are in Dublin ; if you wish Til send for them, and have tlujm ready for the landlord’s signature when- ever he comes down here; or I’ll leave them in town where I shall be more likely to see him.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 106 Very well, sir,” replied M’Mahon, “I lave it all in your own liands, for I know that if you won’t be my friend, you won’t be my enemy.” “Well — certainly — I hope not. Will you take anything? Here, James, bring in some brandy.” M’Mahon’s protest against the brandy was any- thing but invincihle. Feihertonge’s manner was so kind, so familiar, and his interest in the success of himself and his family so unaffectedly warm and sincere, that, after drinking his healih, he took his leave with a light and happy heart. Their journeys home was a little more lively than the depression of Jemmy Burke's mind liad allowed it to be on their way to the auction. Yet each had bis own peculiar feelings, independently of those which were (dicited by the conversation. Jemmy Burke, who had tasted some of Wallace’s liquor, as indeed with the exception of Bryan they all did, W'as consequently in a better and more loquacious Itumor than he bad been during the day. On this occasion his usual good fortune attended him ; for it M as the opinion of every one there, that he had got the best bargain disposed of during the day — a lot of twenty-five wethers in prime condition. Gerald Cavanagh, who had also tasted the poteen, stuck as closely as possible to his skirts, moved thereto by a principle of adhesion, with wdiich our readers are already acquainted ; and Bryan, who saw and un- derstood his motives, felt by no means comfortable at w^itnessing such strong symptoms of excessive attachment. Old M’Mahon did not speak much, for in truth, he could not overcome the depressing ef- 107 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. fects of tlio scene lie had witnessed, nor of tlic words uttered by Wallace, as they bade eaefe other farewell. Burke, however, and his companion Cavanagli looked like men between whom a warm friendship was about to grovv up. Wlienever tliey came to a public-house or a shebeen, tliey either dismounted ami had a cordial drop together, or took it in the saddle after touching each other's glasses in token of love and amity. It is true some slight interrup- tion occurred, that disturbed the growing confirlence and familiarity of their dialogue, which interruption consisted in the endh'ss Avhinnying of the nuare whenever her foal delayed a moment behind her, or in the sudden and abrupt manner in which she wdieeled about with a strong disposition to return and look for it. On the discovery of Burke’s robbery an investi- gation was set on foot, but with no prospect of suc- cess, and without in any way inv(dving the Hogans, who were 8tr()ngly suspected. It was clearly prov- ed that Philip and one of his brothers slept in their usual residence — Cavansgh's corn-kiln — on that night, but it was admitted tliat Bait Hogan and his wile Kate were both abroad the greater portion of it. On them suspicion might, indeed, very natu- rally have rested, were it not for the evidence of Hycy himself, who at once admitted that he could exonerate them from any suspicion, as he knew both how and where tliey had passed the night in question. So far, therefore, V e Hog ins^ dishonest as tli(*y were unquestionably reputed to be, now stood perfectly exonerated from all suspicion. 108 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. The lapse of a very few days generally cools down the ferment occasioned by maiters tiiis kind, espe- cially when public cm iosity found to be at fault in developing the whole train of circumstances connect- ed with them. All the in-door servants, it is true, were rigorously examined, yet it somehow liaj>p(‘ned that Ilycy could not divest himself of a suspicion that Nanny Peety was in some way pavy to the disap- pearance of the money. In about three or four days he happened to see her thrust sornetliing into her father’s bag, which he carried as a mendicant, and he could not avoid remarking that there was in her whole manner, which was furtive and hurried, an obvious consciousness of something that was not right. He resolved, however, to follow up the im- pression which he felt, and accordingly in a few- min- utes after her father had taken his departure, he brought lier aside, and without giving lier a mo- ment to concoct a reply, he asked what it w^as that lie saw her thrusting in such a hurried manner into his bag. She reddened like scarlet, and, after paus- ing a moment, replied, “Nothing, sir, but an ould pair of shoes.” “ Was that all ? ” he asked. “That w^as all, sir,” she replied. The blush and liesitation, how^ever, with which she answered him, were far from satisfactory ; and without more ado, he w^alked briskly down the avenue, and overtook her father near the gate at its entrance. “Peety,” said he, “ what was that your daughter THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 109 Nanny put into your bag a while ago? I wish to know.” “Deed an’ it’s scarcely worth your while. Mister Ilycy,” replied the mendicant; “ but since }OuM like to know, it was a pair ol' ould brogues, and here they are,” he added, “if you wish to see them.” lie laid down the big as he spoke, and was pro- ceeding to pull them out, when Hycy, who felt angry with himself as well as ashamed at being detected ill such a beggarly and unbecoming act of espion- age^ turned instantly back, after having vented sev- eral hearty curses upon the unfortunate mendicant and his bags. As he approached the hall-door, however, he met Nanny crossing into the kitchen-yard, and from the timid and hesitating glance she cast at him, some vague suspicion again occurred, and he resolved to enter into farther conversation with her. It struck him that she had been watching his interview with l»er father, and could not avoid yielding to the impression which had returned so strongly upon him. “ I saw your father, Nanny,” he said, in as signfi- cant and dry a tone as possible. “Did you, sir?” said she; and he remarked that while uttering the words, slie again colored deeply and did not raise her eyes to his face. “Yes,” he replied; “but he did not boar out what you said — he had no pair of shoos in his bag.” “ Did you see what he had in it. Master Hycy? ” “Why,” said he, “a — hem — a — a— I didn't look — but ril tell you what, Nanny, I think you look as no THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. if you were in possession of some secret. I say so, and don’t imagine you can fv^r a moment impose upon me. I know what your father liad in his bag.” “Well then, if you do, sir,” she replied, “ you .know the saycrit.” “ So there is a secret, then.” “So you say, JMasther Ifycy.” “Nanny,” he proceeded, “it occurs to me now that you never underwent a formal examination about this robbery that took place in our house.” “Tliat wasn’t my l;ault,’’ she replied; “I mostly happened to be out.” “ Well, but do you know anything about it?” “ Not a thing — no more than yourself, Mr. Hycy.” Her interrogater turned upon her a hard scruti- nizing glance, in wliich it was easy to see that she n ad a spirit of strong and dissatisfied suspicion. She was evidently conscious of thi.s; for as llycy stood gazing upon her, she reddened, and betrayed unequivocal symptoms of confusion. “ Because, Nanny,” lie proceeded, “If you knew any tiling about it, and didn’t mention it at once to the family, you wotihl be considered as one of the robbers.” “An’ wouldn’t I be nearly as bad if I didn’t?” she replied; “ surely the first thing I’d do would be to tell.” “It’s very strange,” observed Ilycy, “ that such a robbery could be committed in a house where there are so many servants, without any clue whatsoever to a discovery.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. Ill Well, I don’t agree with you tltere, Mr. Hycy — if wlial your father and mother an’ all o’ thnn say is t?ue — that it wasn’t often the hall-door was boiled at night; and that they can’t say whether it was fastened on Vtat night or not. Sure if it wasn’t, there was nothing to prevent any one from cornin’ in.” ‘•Very true, Xanny,” he replied, “very true; and we have paid severely for our negligence.” Tliis closed the conversation, but Ilycy felt that, proceed from whatever source it might, it was irn- }>ossible to dismiss certain vague suspicions as con- nected with the mendicant’s daughter. He deter- mined, however, to watcli her narrowly ; and some- how he could not divest himself of the imj)ression that she saw through his design. This incident occurred a few days after the robbery. Jemmy Bmke, though in many respects a man of easy and indolent cliaracter, was nevertheless a per- son wlio, as is lamiliarly said, “always kept an eye to llie mai»i chance.” lie was by no means over- tidy either in his dress or farming; but it mattered little in wliat light you contemplated him, you were al ways certaiti to find him a man not alFecled by trifles, nor rigidly systematic in anything; but at the same time you could not help observing tliat he was a man of strong points, whose life was marked by a course of high prosperity, that seemed to flow in upon him, as it were, by some peculiar run of good fortu!5e. Tiiis luck, however, was little less than the natural result of shrewd mother-wit, hap- pily applied to the ordinary transactions of life, and 112 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. assuming tlie appearance of good fortune rather than of sound judgment, in consequence of the simplicity of character under which it acted. Ever since the night of the robbery, lie had de- voted himself more to the pipe tlian he liad ever been known to do before ; he spoke little, too ; but what he did say was ironical, though not by any means without a tinge of quiet but caustic humor. Hycy, on entering the parlor, fourjd him seated in an arm-chair, smoking as usual, wliilst his mother, wdio soon came down stairs, appeared dressed in more than her usual finery. “What keeps Patsy Dolan wid the car?” she inquired, “ Hycy, do you see any appearance of him ? ” “No, ma’am,” replied the son; “ I didn't know you wanted him.” Jemmy looked at lier with a good deal of sur- prise, and, after whiffing aw^ay the smoke, a^ked — “And well, Rosha — begs pardon — Mrs. Burke — is it a fair question to ax where you are bound for?” “ Fair enough, Mr. Burke,” she replied ; “ but I'm not goin’ to answ’er it.” “ You’re bound for a journey, ma’am, I think ? ” “Pm bound for a journey, sir.” “ Is it a lo7ig journey, Mrs. Burke ? ” “ No, indeed ; it’s a short journey. Mister Burke.” “ Ah ! ” replied her husband, utteiing a very sig- nificant groan ; “ Pm afraid it is.” “Why do you groan, Mr. Burke?” “Oh it doesn’t signify,” he replied, drily; “it’s no novelty, I believe, to hear a man — a married man THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 113 — groan in tliis world; only if you wor for a long journey, I'd be glad lo give you every astei»tance in my pf)wer.” “You hear that^ Hycy ; there's affiClion?” she excdainied — “ wishiii’ me lo go my long journey “ AYould you marry again, Mr. Burke ?” asked the worthy son. “ I think not,” replied Jemmy. “There’s ginlle- men enough o’ the name — I’m afraid one too many.” “ Well, ’ exclaimed Ins wife, assuming something as near to her conception of the look of a martyr as possible, “ /’m sulFeriu’ at all events; but I know my crown’s before me.” “ Sich as It is,’’ replied her husband, “I dare say it is.” “ ril not be back for a few hours, Tlycy ; an’ — but here’s the cir. Come fardher up, Patsy.” Hycy politely handed his mother out, and assist- ed her on the car. “Of course, he’ll discover it all,” said he, laughing. “I know he will,” she replied; “but when it’s over, it’s over, and that’s all.” Jemmy now met his son at the hall door, and asked him if he knew where his mother had gone. “ I really cannot undertake to say,” replied the other. “Mrs. Burke, father, is a competent judge of her own motions; but I presume to think that she may take a drive upon her own car, without being so seveivly, if not ungenerously catechised about it. I presume to think so, sir; but I dare say I am wrong, and that even that is a crime on my part.” 114 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. His father made no reply, hut proceed* *d at an easy and thoughtful pace to join his men in the field where they were at labor. Ilycy, after his mothtr’s return that evening, seemed rather in low spirits, if one couM form any correct estimate of his character by appearances. He w^as very silent, and somewhat less given to those broken snatches of melody tlian w^as his wont; and yet a close observer might have read in his doptirtrnent, and especially in the peculiar ex- jDression of his eye, that which seemed to indicate anything rather than depression or gloom. His silence, to sucli an observer, might have appeared rather the silence of satisfaction and triumph, than of disappointment or vexation. Ilis father, indeed, saw little of liim that night, in consequence of the honest man having preferred the liob of his wealtliy and spacious kitchen to the soci- ety of his wife and son in the parlor. The next morning, however, they met at breakfast, as usual, when Ilycy, after some ironical compliments to his fatlier’s good taste, asked him, “ if he would do iiini the favor to step towards the stable and see his purchase.” ‘‘You don’t mane Crazy Jane?” said the other, coolly. ‘* I d<>,” replied Hvcy ; “ and as I set a high value on your opiidon, perhaps you will be kind enough to s «y whaf. you ihiidc (d’ her.” Now, Hvcy never lor a moment dreamt that his fatlier would have taken him at liis word, and we need hardly say that he was a good deal discon- THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 115 certed at the cool manner in which tlie other ex- pressed Ills readiness to do so. “ Well, Mr: Bnrke,” he proceeded, when tl>ey had reached the stable, “ there she is. Pray what do you think of her? ” The old man looked at her from various points, passed his hand down her limbs, clapped her on the back, felt her in different place-, then looked at her again. ‘‘She’s a beauty,” said he, “a born beauty like Billy Neelins’s foal: what’s this you say you paid for her?” “Thirty-five pounds.” “ Tare-an-ounty, IIyc\% she’s dog chape — thirty- five! — why she’s vabie for double tiie sum.” “ Nearly,” replied Ilycy, quite elevated and get- ting into good humor ; “ is she not really now, fatlier, a precious bit of flesh ? ” “ Ah ! you may swear that, Tlycy ; I tell you you won’t act the lionest man, if you don’t give liim fifteen or twenty pounds over an’ above what you ))aid him. Tom Burton I see’s too simple for you. Go and do what I bid you ; don’t defraud the poor man ; you have got a treasure, I tell you — a beauty bright — an extraordinary baste — a woriderful ani- mal -oh, dear me ! what a trreat puiciiase! Good- bye, II ycy. Bless my sowl! what a judge of horse- fiesh you are !” llaving uttered these words in a tone of grave and caustic iroi«y, lie left his worthy son in a stale of chagrin almost bordering on resentment, at tlie strong contempt for crazy Jane, implied by the ex- cessive eulogium he had passed upon lier. This 116 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. feeling*, however, was on reflection considerably checked by his satisfaction on finding that the matter was taken by his father so coolly. He had calculated on receiving a very stormy lecture from liim the moment he should become aware of Ids having the animal in his possession ; and he now felt ratiier relieved that he should have escaped so easily. Be this as it may, Ilycy was now in ex- cellent spirits. Not only liad Crazy Jane been seemed, but there were strong symptoms of liis being in cash. In a few days after the incident of the stable, he contrived to see Philip Ilogan, with whom lie appointed a final meeting in Cavanagh’s kiln on the night of the Kemp : at which meeting, Teddy Pliats and the other two Hogans were also to be present, in order to determine upon the ste[)S which he ultimately proposed to take, with a view to work out his purposes, whatever those purposes may have been. 117 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADAREA. CHAPTER VII. THE spinsters’ KEMP. A KEMP, or camp, is a contest of industrial skill, or a compel ilion for priority in a display of rustic labor. Among men it is principally resorted to in ])laniing ])otaioe8 or reaping of corn, and generally only on tlie day wliich closes the labor at each for the season; but in the sense in which it is most usually practised and contested, it means a trial of female skill at the s|)iniiing of linen yarn. It is, indeed, a very cheerful assemblage of the fair sex ; and, although strong and desperate rivalry is the ordiT of the day, yet it is conducted in a spirit so light-hearted and amicable that we scarcely know a more laudable or delightful recreation in country life. Its object is always good, and its associations praiseworthy, inasmuch as they promote industry, a spiiit of becoming emulation, and principles of good w ill and kindness to our neighbor. When a kemp is about to be held, the matter soon becomes generally known in the neighborhood. Sometimes the young w'^omen are asked, but in most instances, so eager are they to attend it that invita- tions are unnecessary. In the wdnter months, and in mountain districts, it is often as picturesque as it is pleasaiit. Tne young women usually begin to assemble about four o’clock in the morning; and, as they always go in groups, accompanied besides THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 118 by their sweethearts or some male relatives, each of the latter beaiing a large torch o( \vA\ dried b<>g- fir, their voices, and songs, and loud langliier, brt ak upon the stillness of night with a lioliday feeling, made ten times more delightful by the surrounding darkness and the hour. W hen they have not the torch- es the spinning-wheels are carried by the males, amidst an agreeable din of fun, banter, repartee, and jest, such as scarcely any other rustic amusement with which we are acquainted ever occasii>ns. On arriv- ing at tlie house where the kemp is to be held, they are placed in the barn or some clean outhouse; but indeed the numbers are usually such as to crowd every available sp ice that can be procured for their accommodation. From the moment they arrive the lively din is incessant. Nothingis heard but laugh- ter, conversation, songs, and anecdotes, all rising in a loud key, among the louder humming of the spin- ning-wheels and the striduous noise of the reeds, as they incessantly crack the cuts in the hands of the reelers, who are perpetually turning them from morning till night, iti older to ascertain the quantity which every competitor has spun ; and she, of course, who has spun most wins the kemp, and is the queen for the night. A kemp invariably closes with a dance — and a dance too upon an unusually extensive scale. In- deed, during the whole day the fair competitors are regaled from time to time with the enlivening strains of the fiddle or bagpipes, and very often with the united melody of both together. On that morning the dwelling-house and mostly THE nyUGRA^TP OF AHAPAKRA. 119 all the out-officale as they lelt themselves elevated or depressed by ihe prospect or loss of victory. Nor were there want- ing on this occasion some vivid glances, that were burthened, as they passed aslant their lair faces, wiih piihier feelings tli.ai those that originated from a simple de>ire of victory. If truth must be told, baleful flashes, unmeasured both in number and expression, were exchanged in a spirit of true detiance between tlie interested and contending parties, as the close of the contest approached. At length, by the proclamation of the reelers, tl»e great body of the competitors were thrown out, and they consequently gave up the contest. It was now six o’clock, and the first sound of seven o’clock hy Cap- tain Millar’s b(*ll was to close the proceedings, and enable the reelers to proclaim tlie victor. Only four names now remained to battle it out to the last ; to THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 121 wit, a country farmer’s daughter, named Betty Ai- kins, Dora M’Mahon, Hanna Cavanagh, and a ser- vant girl belonging to another neighbor, named Peggy Bailly. This ruck, as they say on the turf, was pretty well up together, but all the rest no- where. And now, to continue the metaphor, as is the case at Goodwood or the Curragh, the whole interest was centred upon these four. At the com- mencement of the last hour the state of the case was proclaimed, as follows: — Betty Aikins, three dozen and eight cuts; Dora M’Mahon, three dozen and seven cuts; Hanna Cavanagh, three dozen and five cuts; and Peggy Bailly, three dozen and four cuts. Every individual had now her own party anx- ious for her success, and amidst this hour of inter- est how many hearts beat with all the hopes and fears that are incident even to the most circum- scribed contests of human life. Opposite Dora stood the youth whom we have already noticed, James Cavanagh, whose salvation seemed but a very trifling thing when compared or put into oppo- sition with her success. Be this as it may, the mo^ ment was a most exciting one, even to those who felt no other interest than that which naturally arises from human competition. And it was un- questionably a beautiful thing to witness this par- ticular contest between four youthful and industri- ous young women. Dora’s otherwise pale and placid features were now mantling, and her beauti- ful dark eyes flashing, under the proud and ardent spirit of ambition, for such in fact was the principle which now urged and animated the contest. When 6 122 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. nearly half-an-hour had passed, Kathleen came be- hind her, and stooping down, whispered : — “ Dora, don’t turn your wheel so quickly : you move the loot-board too fast — don’t twist the thread too much, and you’ll let down more.” Dora smiled and looked up to her with a grateful and flashing eye ; “ Thank you, Kathleen,” she re- plied, nodding, “ I’ll take your advice.” The state of the contest was then proclaimed : — Betty Aikins — three dozen and ten cuts; Dora M’Mahon — three dozen and ten cuts ; Hanna Cavanagh — three dozen, six cuts and a half; Peggy Bailly — three dozen, flve and a half. On hearing this, Betty Aikin’s cheek became scarlet, and as it is useless to disguise the fact, seve- ral flashing glances that partook more of a Penthesi- lean fire than the fearful spirit which usually charac- terizes the industrious pursuits of Minerva, were shot at generous Dora, who sustained her portion of the contest with singular spirit and temper. “You may as well give it up, Dora M’Mahon,” exclaimed Betty; “there never was one of your blood could open against an Aikins — the stufi* is not in you to beat me.” “Avery little time will soon tell that,” replied Dora ; “ but indeed, Betty, if am doin’ my best to •win the kemp, I hope it’s not in a bad or unfriendly spirit, but in one of fair play and good humor.” The contest now went on for about fifteen min- utes, with surpassing interest and animation, at the expiration of which period, the seven o’clock bell already alluded to, rang the hour for closing their THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 123 labors and determining the victory. Thus stood their relative positions — Dora M’Mahon, four hanks and three cuts; Betty Aikins, four hanks; Hanna Cavanagh, three hanks and nine cuts ; Peggy Bailly, three lianks and eigiit cuts. When this result was made known, Betty Aikins burst into a loud fit of grief, in which she sobbed as if her very heart would break, and Kathleen stoop- ing down, congratulated the beautiful girl upon her victory, kissing her at tiie same time as she spoke — an act of love and kindness in which she would have joyfully been followed by several of her male friends, if they bad dared to take that delicious liberty. The moment of victory, we believe, is that which may be relied upon as the test of true greatness. Dora M’Mahon felt the pride of that moment in its fullest extent, but she felt it only to influence her better and nobler prijiciples. After casting her eyes around to gather in, as it were, that honest appro- bation which is so natural, and exchanging some rapid glances with the youth we have alluded to, she went over to her defeated competitor, and taking her hand said, “ Don’t cry, Betty, you have no right to be ashamed ; sure, as you say, it’s the first time you wor ever beaten; we couldn’t all win; an’ in- deed if I feel proud now, every one knows an’ says I have a right to be so; for where was there — ay, or where is there — sich a spinner as you are ? Shake hands now an’ there’s a kiss for you. If I won this kemp, it was won more by chance than by anything else.” 121 THE EMIGRANTS OF AH AD AREA. These generous expressions were not lost on Bet- ty ; on the cootrary, they soothed her so mucli that she gave lier hand cordially to her young and inter- esting corjqueress, after which they all repaired to a snj)per of new milk and flummery, tlian which there is nothing more delicious within the wide range of luxury. This agreeable meal being over, they re- paired to the large barn where Mickey M’Grory, tlie fiddler, was installed in his own peculiar orches- tra, consisting of an arm-chair of old Irish oak, brought out from Gerald Cavanagh’s parlor. It would indeed be difficult to find together such a group of happy faces. Gerald Cavanagli and his wi e, Tom M’Mahon and his better half, and several of the neighbors, of every age and creed, were all assembled ; and, in this instance, neither grey hairs nor length of years were looked upon as privileged from a participation in the festivities of the evening. Among the rest, gaunt and grim, were the llirce Hogans, looking tli rough the light-h(‘arted assemblage Mith the dark and sinister visages of thorough ruf- fians, who were altogether incapable of joining in the cheerful and inoffensive amusements that went for- ward around them. Kate Hogan sat in an obscure corner behind the fiddler, where she was scarcely visible, but from which she enjoyed a full view of everything that occurred in the house. A shebeen-man, named Paria Bradagh, father to Barney, whom the reader has already met in the still-house, brought a cask of poteen to the stable, where he disposed of it suh silentio^ by which we mean without the knowledge of Gerald Cavanagh, THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 125 ■who would not have suffered any such person about liis place, had the circumstance been made known to him. Amo'ng the rest, in tlie course of the evening, our friend O’Finigan the Philomath made his ap- pearance, and as was his wont very considerably ad- A^anced in liquor. The worthy pedagoue, on inquir- ing for the queen of the kemp, as he styled her, was told that he might know her by the flowers in her liair. '‘There she is, maslher, said one of them, “ wid the roses on lier head.” “Well,” said O’Finigan, looking about him with surprise, “ i have, before now, indulged in the Cere- lian juice until my eyes have bicome possessed of that equivocal quality called the double vision^ but I must confess that this is the first occasion on which the quality aforesaid has been quadrupled. Instead of one queen, wid Flora’s fragrant favors in her locks, I think I see four.” Finigan indeed was right. Dora, on being pre- sented with a simple chaplet of flowers, as the heroine of the night, in a spirit of true magnanimity generously divided the chaplet among her three rivals, thus, like every brave heart, resting satisfied Avith the consciousness of victory, and anxious that those who had approached her so nearly should also share in its honors. It is not our intention to enter into a detailed ac- count of the dancing, nor of the good humor which prevailed among them. It is enough to say that the old people performed minuets and cotillions, and tlie young folks, jigs, reels, and country dances; horn- pipes were performed upon doors, by rural dancers, 126 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. and all the usual variations of mirth and amusement were indulged in on the occasion. We have said that Tom M Mahon and his family were there, but we should have added, with one ex- ception. Bryan did not arrive until the evening was far advanced, having been prevented by press- ing business connected with his farm. On making his appearance, he was greeted by a mumur of wel- comes, and many an honest hand was extended to him. Up until tiien there were two individuals who observed Kathleen Cavanagh closely, and we must ourselves admit that both came to the same conclu- sion. It was clear that during the whole evening she had been unusually pensive, if not actually de- pressed, although a general observer would have seen nothing in her beyond the natural sedateness of her manner. The two in question w^ere Kate Hogan and Dora M’Mahon. On Bryan’s arrival, however, the color of her cheek deepened into a richer beauty, the eye became more sparkling, and a much slighter jest than before moved her into- mirth. Such, however, we are, and such is the mys- tery of our nature. It might have been remarked that the Hogans eyed Bryan, soon after making his appearance, \(^ith glances expressive of anything but good feeling. It was not, however, when he first ar- rived, or danced with Hanna Cavanagh, that these boding glances were turned upon him, but on the occasion of his performing a reel with Kathleen. It might have been noticed that they looked at him, and afterwards at each other, in a manner that could admit of but little misapprehension. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 121 ‘‘Philip,” observed Finigan, addressing the elder Hogan, “ Philip, the Macedonian — nlonarch of Mace- don, I say, is not that performance a beautiful speci- men of the saltatory art? There is manly beauty, O Philip ! and modest carriage. “ ‘ With aquil beauty formed, and aquail grace, ' Hers the soft blushes of the opening morn, And his the radiance of the risen day.’ ” “It’s night now, raasther, if you plaise,” returned Hogan, gruffly ; “ but we don’t want your opinion here — stick to your pot-hooks and hangers — keep to your trade.” The pot-hooks and hangers are more tin generis ^ you misbegotten satyr,” replied the schoolmaster; “ that is, more appropriately concatenated wid your own trade than wid mine. I have no trade, sirra, but a profession, and neither have you. You stand in the same degraded ratio to a tradesman that a rascally quack does to a regular surgeon.” “ You had better keep a civil tongue in your head,” replied Hogan, nettled at the laughter which the schoolmaster raised at his expense. “ What ! a civil tongue for you ! Polite language for a rascally sotherer of ould skillets and other anonymous utensils. Why, what are you ? — firstly, a general violation of the ten commandments; and, secondly, a mis-shapen but fiitljful impersonation of tlie seven deadly sins. Take my word for it, my worthy Macedonian, you will die any death but a horizontal one — it s veracity I’m telling you. Yet there is some comfort for you too — some comfort, I say again; for you wlio never lived one upright hour 128 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. will die an upright death. A certain official will erect a perpendicular with you; but for that touch of Mathematics you must go to the hangman, at whose liands you will have to receive the riles of your church, you monstrous bog-trotting Gorgon. Mine a trade ! Shades of Academus, am I to bear this ! ” Finigan was, like most of his class, a privileged man ; but on this occasion the loudness of the mirth prevented Hogan’s reply from being heard. As to violence, nobody that knew the poor pedagogue could ever dreamt of using it towards him, and there is little doubt that the consciousness of this caused him to give his tongue a license when provoked which he otherwise would not liave dared to venture upon. When he first made his appearance he was so far ad- vanced in liquor as scarcely to be able to stand, and it was quite evident that the heat of the crowded house by no means improved him. In about a quarter of an hour after Bryan and Kathleen had danced, the good people of the kemp were honored by the appearance of Hycy Burke among them — not in his jockey dress, but in a tight- fitting suit, that set off his exceedingly well-made person to great advantage. In fact, Hycy was a young fellow of a remarkably handsome face, full of liveliness and apparent good humor, and a figure . that was nearly perfect. He addressed the persons present with an air of easy condescension, and went over immediately and shook hands, in a very cordial manner, with Gerald Cavanagh and his wife, after which he turned round and bowed to the daughters. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 129 He then addressed Bryan, beside whom Kathleen was sitting. ‘‘Bryan,” said he, “ there will be mistakea in the best of families. 1 hate enmity. How do you do ? ” Bryan nodded, and replied, “Pretty well, Hycy — how are you? ” Cavanagh and his wife were evidently quite de- lighted to see him ; the good man rose and made him take his own seat, and Mrs. Cavanagh paid? him every conceivable mark of attention. “Mrs. Cavanagh,” said he, after some chat, “may I be permitted to indulge in the felicity of .^a dance with Miss Cavanagh?” “ Which of them?” asked the mother, and then added without wailing for a reply — “ to be sure you may.” “ The felicity of a dance ! that was well expressed, Mr. Hycy ; but it was not for nothing that you broke grammatical ground under Patricius Finigau — ah, no; the early indoctrinations will tell; — that is clear.” “I mean Miss Kathleen,” replied Hycy, without paying any atteiition to Finigan’s observations. “Why not?” exclaimed both; “of course you will — go over and bring her out.” Hycy, approaching her, said, in his blandest aiid most persuasive manner, “ Miss Cavanagh, will you allow me the gratification of dancing a reel with you?” “Pm obliged to you, Mr. Burke,” she replied, gravely; “I have just danced a reel with Bryan M’Mahon here, and I don’t intend to dance any more to-night.” 130 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADAERA. “ A Simple reel ? ” said Hycy ; “ perhaps you will so far favor me ? I shall consider it as a favor, I assure you.” “ Excuse me, Mr. Burke, but I won’t dance any more to-night.” “That’s hard,” he replied, “especially as I came all the way to have that pleasure. Perhaps you will change your mind. Miss Cavanagh ? ” “ I’m not in the habit of changing my mind, Mr. Burke,” she replied, “ and I don’t see any reason why I should do so now. I say once for all that I won’t dance any more to-night.” “ What is it,” asked the mother, on perceiving her hesitation; “ won’t she dance wid you? Hut, tut, Kathleen, what nonsense is this ? To be sure you must dance wid Mr. Burke ; don’t take any refusal, Mr. Burke — is that all you know about girls ? — sure nineteen refusals is aquil to one consent. Go over, Gerald, and make her dance wid him,” she added, turning to her husband. “What’s the matter, Kathleen, that you won’t dance wid Mr. Hycy?” asked the good man. “ Because I have danced all I will dance to-night, father.” “ Tut, nonsense, yon foolish girl — it’s proud you ought to be that he’d ax you. Get up and dance a reel wdd him.” Hanna, who knew her sister’s resolution when once formed, immediately came to her rescue. “Don’t ask her, father,” she said; “the truth is, that I believe she has a headache— however. I’ll THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 131 take her place — have you any objection to me, Mr. Burke?” None in the world — he would be very happy — only he regretted that he could not have that pleas- ure also with her sister. “Ah, Mr. Hycy — which is properly Hyacintiius,” said Fiuigan ; “I am able to perceive that Cupid declines to be propitious in that quarter, or perhaps it’s the ircB amantium — which is, on being rendered into vernacularity, a falling out of lovers ; and if so, do not despair; for as certain as it is, it will be followed by that most delectable of •processes, the redintegratio amoris^ or the renewing of love. In fact, he is little better than a tyro — an ignoramus^ who doesn’t quarrel at least once a week, wid the fair object of his amorous inclinations, an’ that for the sake of the reconciliations.” Hycy and Hanna were now about to dance, when Philip Hogan came forward, and, with an oath, de- clared that Kathleen must dance — “He wouldn’t see Mr. Burke insulted that way by any such airs — and by she must dance. Come,” said he, “ what stuff is this — wedl see whether you or I is strongest;” and as he spoke he seized her rudely by the arm, and was about to pull her out on the floor. Bryan M’Mahon sprung to his feet. “Let her go, you ruffian,” he exclaimed ; “ let her go this in- stant.” “ No, I won’t,” replied the savage; “an’ not for you, at any rate. Come, Miss Kathleen, out you’ll go : — for you indeed,” he added, in a ferocious paren- 132 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. thesis, looking at Bryan ; “it’s you that’s the cause of all this. Come, miss, dance you must.” The words were scarcely uttered when M’Mahon, by a single blow on the neck, felled him like an ox, and in an instant the whole place was a scene of wild commotion. The Hogans, however, at all times unpopular, had no chance in an open affray on such an occasion as this. The feeling that predominated was, that the ruffanly interference of Philip had been .justly punished ; and ere many minutes the usual harmony, with the exception of some threaten- ing looks and ferocious under growls from the Ho- gans, was restored. Hycy and Hanna then went n with their dance, and when it was over, the school- master rose to depart. “Mr. Burke,” said he, “you are and have the re- putation of bi ing a perfect gentleman — homo f ac- tus ad unguem—^^ has been said by the learned little Roman, who, between you and me, was not overburthened with an excess of morality. I take the liberty, jinteels, of wishing you a good-night — precor vobls iwosperam noctem I Ah, I can do it yet; but it wasn’t for notlnng that I practised the peripatetics in lamed Kerry, where the great O'Finigan is not yet forgotten. I shall now seek a contiguous place of repose, until tlie consequences of some slight bacchanalian libations on my part shall have dispersed themselves into thin air.” He accordingly departed, but from the unsteadi- ness of his step it was clear that, as he said, the place of his rep 'se must be contiguous indeed. Had he been conscious of his own motions it is not like- THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 133 ]y he would have sought for repose in Cavanagh’s kilu, then the habitation of the Hogans. It was probably tlie fact of the door having been left open, which was generally the case in summer, that in- duced him to enter — for enter he did — ignorant, it is to be presumed, that the dwelling he was about to enter was then inhabited by the Hogans, whom he very much disrelished. The place was nearly waste, and had a very deso- late look. Scattered around, and littered upon shake-down beds of straw, some half dozen young besmutted savages, male and female, lay stretched in all positions, some north, others south, without order or decency, but all seeming in that bar- barous luxury which denotes strong animal health and an utter disregard of cleanliness and bodily comfort. Over in one of the corners lay three or four bud- gets, old iron skillets, hammers, lumps of melted lead, broken pots, a quantity of cows’ horns f«u* spoons, wooden dishes that required clasping, old kettles that wanted repair, a couple of cast off Pot- teen Stills, and a new one half made — all of which were visible by the light of a large log of bog-fir which lay burning in the fireplace. On looking around him, he descended a flight of stone steps that led to the fireplace of the kiln or opening in which the fuel used to dry the grain was always burned. This corner, which was eight or ten feet below the other portion of the floor, being in general during the summer months filled with straw, received the drowsy pedagogue, "'who, in a few 134 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. minutes, was as sound asleep as any of them about Lira. Hycy, who was conscious of his good figure, danced two or three times afterwards. Dora M’- Mahon had the honor of being his partner, as had one or two of the best looking girls present. At the close of the last dance he looked significantly at the Hogans, and nodded towards the door; after which, it might have been observed, that they slunk out one at a time, followed in a few minutes by Kate. Hycy, after some further chat with Gerald Cavanagh and his wife, threw half-a*crown to Mickey M’Grory, and in his usual courteous phrase- logy, through which there always ran, by the way, a vein of strong irony, he politely wished them all a good night. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 135 CHAPTER VIII. ANONYMOUS LETTER AYTTH A NAME TO IT — FINIGAN's DIALOGUE WITH HYCY.* The severest tax upon Ilycy’s powers of inven- tion was, in consecpience of his habits of idleness, to find means of occupying his time. Sometimes, it is true, he condescended to oversee the men while at work, but then it was generally found that so far from keeping them to their employment, he was a considerable drawback upon their industry. The ordinary business of his life, however, was riding about the country, and especially into the town of Ballymacan and home again. He was also a regu- lar attendant in all the neighboring fairs ; and we may safely assert that no race in the province ever came off without him. On the second day after hTs interview with Teddy Phats and the Hogans, he was riding past the post-office, when he heard the window tapped, and, on approaching, a letter was handed out to him, which on opening he found to contain the fol- lowing communication : — ‘‘ Worthy Mr. Hyacinthus, — A FRIEND unknown to you, but not altogether so to fame, and one whom no display of the subtlest ingenuity on behalf of your acute and sagacious in- tellect could ever decypher through the medium of 133 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA this epistle, begs to convey to you a valuable por- tion of anonymous information. When he says that he is not unknown to fame, the assertion, as far as it goes, is pregnant wid veracity. Mark that I say, as far as it goes, by which is meant the asser- tion as well as the fame of your friend, the inditer of this significant epistle. Forty-eight square miles of good sound fame your not inerudite correspond- ent can conscientiously lay claim to ; and although there is, with regret I admit it, a considerable por- tion of the square superficies alluded to, waste and uncultivated moor, yet I can say, wid that racy touch of genial and expressive pride which distin- guishes men of letters iu general, that the other por- tions of this fine district are inhabited by a multitu- dinity of population in the highest degree creditable to the prolific powers of the climate. ’Tisn’t all as one, then, as that thistle-browsing quadruped. Barney Heffernan, who presumes, in imitation of his betters, to write Philomath after his name, and whose whole extent of literary reputation is not more than two or three beggarly townlands, whom, by the way, he is inoculating successfully wid his own ripe and flourishing ignorance. No, sir; nor like Gusty Gibberish, or (as he has been most face- tiously christened by his Reverence, Father OTla- herty) Demosthenes M'Gosther, inasmuch as he is distinguished for an aisy and prodigal superfluity of mere words, unsustained by intelligibility or mean- ing, but who cannot claim in his own person a mile and a half of dacent reputation. However, quid multis? Mr. Hyacinthus; ’tis no indoctrinated or THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 137 obscure scribe wlio now addresses you, and who does so from causes that may be salutary to your owu health and very^ gentlemanly fame, according as you resave the same, not pretermilting interests involving, probably, on your part, an abundant por- tion of pecuniarity. “ In short, then, it has reached these ears, Mr. Hyacinth us, and between you and me, they are not such a pair as, in consequence of their longitudinity, can be copiously shaken, or which rise and fall ac- cording to the will of the wearer, like those of the thistle-browser already alluded to ; it has reached them that you are about to substantiate a disre23uta- ble — excuse the phrase — co-partnership wid four of the most ornamental villains on Hibernian earth, by which you must understand me to mane that the villains aforesaid are not merely accomplished in all the plain principles and practices of villany, but finished off even to its natest and most inganious decorations. Their whole life has been most assidu- ously and successfully devoted to a general viola- tion of the ten commandments, as well as to the perpetual commission of the seven deadly sins. the reserved cases'*'* themselves can’t escape them, and it is well known that they won’t rest satisfied wid the wide catalogue of ordinary and general iniquity, but they must, by way of luxury, liave a lick at blasphemy, and some of the rarer vices, as often as they can, for the villains are so fastidious that they won’t put up wid common wickedness like other people. I cannot, however, wid anything approximating to a safe conscience, 138 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. rest here. What I have said has reference to tlie laws of God, but what I am about to enumerate re- lates to the laws of man — to the laws of the land. Wid respect, then, to them, I do assure you, that al- though I myself look upon the violation of a great number of the latter wid a very vanial squint, still, I say, I do assure you that they have not left a sin- gle law made by Parliament un fractured. They have gone over the whole statute-book several times, and I believe are absolutely of opinion tliat the Parliament is doing nothing. The most lynx- eyed investigator of old enactments could not find one which has escaped them, for the villains are per- fectly black letter in that respect; and what is in proper keeping wid this, whenever they hear of a new Act of Parliament they cannot rest either night or day until they break it. And now for the infer- ence: be on your guard against this pandemonial squad. Whatever your object may be in cultivat- ing and keeping society wid them, theirs is to ruin you — fleece was the word used — and then to cut and run, leaving Mr. Hycy — the acute, the penetrat- ing, the accomplished — completely in the lurch. Be influenced, then, by the amicitial admonitions of the inditer of this correspondence. Become not a smug- gler — forswear poteen. The Lord forgive me, Mr. Hycy — no, I only wished to say forswear — not the poteen — but any connection wid the illegal alembic from which it is distillated, otherwise they will walk off wid the ‘ doublings,’ or strong liquor, leav- ing you nothing but the residuum or feints. Take a friend's advice, therefore, and retrograde out of THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 139 all society and connexion wid the villains I have described ; or if you superciliously overlook this warning, book it down as a fact that admits of no negation, that you will be denuded of reputation, of honesty, and of any pecuniary contingencies that you may happen to possess. Tnis is a sincere advice from “Your Anonymous Friend, “ Patricius O’Finigan, Philomath.” After perusing this characteristic production Hycy paused for a little, and felt it very probable that there might be some reasonable grounds for its pro- duction, although he could scarcely understand upon what motive these fellows should proceed to prac- tice treachery towards him. That they were with- out principle or honesty he was perfectly satisfied ; but he knew it was their interest to keep within bounds in all matters connected with their employ- ment. He laughed very heartily at Finigan’s blun- der — f >r such it evidently was — in signing his name to a document that he intended to be anonymous. “ At all events,” thought he, “ I will ride over to his ‘ seminary,’ as he calls it, and see what he can mean, or what his object is in sending me such a warning.” He accordingly did so, and in some twenty min- utes reached a small cabin that stood about a couple of hundred yards from the high-road, A little bri- dle way led to it, as did several'minor pathways, each radiating from a different direction. It was surrounded by four or five acres of common, where the children played from twelve to one, at which 140 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. hour Mr. O’Finigan went to the house of some weal- thy benefactor to dine. The little village of Bally- drutliy, at a short distance from which it stood, was composed of a couple dozen d welling-liouses, a ciiapid, a small grocer’s and publican’s, together with a Pound at the entrance, through which ran a little stream necessary to enable the imprisoned cattle to drink. On riding up to the school, Hycy, as he approach- the door, heard his own name repeated by at least two dozen voices. “Here’s a gintleman, masther ” — “It’s Misther Hycy Burke, sir ” — “ It is, bedad, sir, Hycy the sportheen — ” “ Him that rides the race, masther ” — “ Ay, an’ he has on top-boots and buckskins, an’s as gran’ as a gintleman — ” “ Silence ! ” said Finigan, “ silence ! I say ; is this proper scholastic decorum in the presence of a stran- ger? Industry and taciturnity, you reptiles, or castigation shall result. Here, Paddy Sparable,” he added, rising up — “ here, you nailrod, assume my office, and rule the establislirnent till I return ; and, mark me, as the son of a nailer,* sirra, I expect that you will rule them with a rod of iron — ha ! ha ! ha ! ” “Ay, but Paddy Pancake’s here to-day, sir, an’ he’s able to welt me ; so that’s it’s only leathered I’d get, sir, i’ you plase.” “But have you no officers ? Call in aid, I ordher you. Can’t you make Sam Scaddhan and Phiddlier Mackleswig there two polis^ an’ get Pancake down — flatten him — if he prove contumacious during THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 141 my absence. Pancake, mark me, obedience is your cue, or, if not, the castigator here is your alternative ; there it is, freshly cut —ripe and ready — and you are not to be told, at this time o’ day, what portion of your corpus will cat ch it. Whish-h-h ! — silence ! I say. How do you do, Mr. Burke? I am proud of a visit from you, sir; perhaps you would light down and ex- amine a class. My Greeks are all absent to-day ; but I have a beautiful class o’ Romas niii the Fourth Book of Virgil — immortal Maro. Do try them, Mr. Hycy ; if they don’t do Dido’s death in a truly congenial spirit I am no classic. Of one thing I can assure you, that they ought ; for I pledge my reputation it is not the first time I’ve made them practice the Irish cry over it. This however was but natural; for it is now well known to the learned that, if Dido herself was not a fair Hibernian, she at least spoke excellent Irish. Ah, Mr. Hycy,” he added, with a grin, “ the birch is the only pathetic switch growing ! Will you come in, sir ? ” “No, thank you, Mr. Finigan ; but perhaps you would have the goodness to come out for a little;” and, as he spoke, he nodded towards the pu\)lic-house. “I know the boys will be quiet until you return.” “If they don’t,” replied Finigan, “the alterna- tive is in no shape enigimatical. Mark what I’ve already said, gintlemen. Sparable, do you keep a faitliful journal of the delinquents; and observe that there are offices of importance in this world besides flagellating erudition into reptiles like you.” He then looked about him with an air of vast 142 THE EMIGRANTS OF AH AD AREA. importance, and joined Hycy on his way to the public-house. Having ordered in the worthy ped- agogue’s favorite beverage, not forgetting something of the same kind for himself, he addressed Finigau as follows : — “ Finigan, I received a devilish queer letter from you to-day — take your liquor in the mean time — what did you mean by it ? ” “From me, Mr. Hycy — nego^ I say — -pugnis et calc hu nego,^'^ “ Come, come, you know you wrote me an anony- mous letter, referring to some ridiculous copartner- ship or other that I can neither make head nor tail of. Tell me candidly what you meant.” “Very good, Mr. Burke; but sure I know of old that jocularity was always your forte — even when laying in under my own instruction that sound classical substratum on which the superstructure of your subsequent knowledge was erected, you were always addicted to the facetious and the fabulous — both of which you contrived to blend together with an ease and volubility of language that could not be surpassed.” “ That is all very well ; but you need not deny that you wrote me the letter. Let me ask you seri- ously, what it was you warned me against?” “ Propino tibi salutem — here’s to you. No, but let me ask you what you are at, Mr. Hycy ? You may have resaved an anonymous letter, but I am ignorant why you should paternize it upon me.” “ Why, because it has all the marks and tokens of you.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 143 “Eh? — to what does that amount? Surely you know my liandwriting ? ” “Perfectly; but this is disguised evidently.” “Faith,” said the other, laughing, “maybe the inditer of it was disguised when he wrote it.” “It might be,” replied Hycy; “ however, take your liquor, and in the mean time I shall feel exceed- ingly obliged to you, Mr. Finigan, if you will tell me the truth at once — whether you wrote it or whether you did not? ” “ My response again is in the negative,” re- plied Finigan — “ I disclaim it altogether. I am not the scribe, you may rest assured of it, nor can I say who is.” “Well, then,” said Hycy, “I find I must convict you yourself of the fabulous at least ; read that,” said he, placing the letter in his own hands. “ Like a true Irishman you signed your name unconscious- ly ; and now what have you to say for yourself? ” “Simply,” replied the other, “that some knave, of most fictitious imagination, has forged my name to it. No man can say that that is my manuscription, Mr. Ilycy.” These words he uttered wdth great coolness ; and Hycy, who was in many things a shrewd young fellow, deemed it better to wait until the liquor, which was fast disappearing, should begin to operate. At length, when about three- quarters of an hour had passed, he resolved to at- tack his vanity. “ Well, well, Finigan, as regards this letter, I must say I feel a good deal disappointed.” “ Why so, Mr. Hycy ? ” 144 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. ‘‘ Wh}^ because I did not think there was any other man in the country who cow/c^have written it.’* “ Eh ? how is that now ? ” Faith, it’s very pimple; the letter is written with surprising ability — the language is beautiful — and the style, like the land of Canaan, flowing with milk and honey. It is certainly a most uncommon production.” “ Now, seriously, do you think so ? At all events, Mr. llycy, it was written by a friend of yours — that’s a clear case.” “ I think so ; but what strikes me is its surprising ability; no wonder the writer should say that he is not unknown to fame — he could not possibly remain in obscurity.” “Mr. Hycy, your health — I remember when you were wid me you certainly were facile princeps for a ripe judgment, even in your rudiments; so tlien, you are of opinion that the epistle in question has janius ? I think myself it is no everyday production ; not I believe such as the thistle-browser Hefiernan, or Misther Demosthenes M’ Costlier could achieve — the one wid his mile and a half, and the other wid his three townlands of reputation. No, sir, to the divil I pitch them both ; they could never indite such a document. Your health, Mr. Hycy — propino tibi^ I say ; and you are right, ille ego — it’s a fact ; I am the man, sir — I acknowledge the charge.” This admission having been made, we need scarcely add that an explanation was at once given by Fini- gan of the motive which had induced him to write the letter. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 145 “On laving tlie kenip,” said he, “ and getting into tlie open air — sub dia^ Mr. llycy — I felt a general liquidation of my whole bodily strength, with a strong disposition to make short excursions to the right or to the left rather than hold my way straight a-head, with, I must confess, with an equal tendency to deposit my body on my mother earth and enact the soporiferous. On passing Gerald Cavanagh’s kiln, where the Hogans kennel, I entered, and was greeted wid such a chorus of sternutation, as you miglit expect from a pig-sty in midsummer, and made me envy the unlicked young savages who in- dulged in it. At the period spoken of neither you nor they had come in from the kemp. Even this is but a dim recollection, and I remember nothing more until I overheard your voice and theirs in dialogue as you were about to depart. After you went, I heard the dialogue which I hinted at in the letter, between Teddy Phats and them; and knowing my position and the misbegotten satyrs by whom I was surrounded, I patiently awaited until they were asleep, when I quietly took my departure.” Burke could not help inferring from Finigan’s manner, that he had overheard a greater portion of their conversation on the occasion alluded to than he seemed disposed to acknowledge. “ Now, Finigan,” he said, “ I feel disposed to place every confidence in you. Will you answer candidly the question I am about to propose to you? Did you hear Bryan M’Mahon’s name men- tioned?” “ You say, Mr. Hycy,” replied Finigan, emptying 7 146 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. liis glas^, “ that you would iiithertain no apprehen- sion in placing confidence in me ? ” “ Not the slightest,” replied llycy ; “ I believe you to be the very soul of honor ; and, besides, are you not my old master ? As you say yourself, did I not break grammatical ground under you ? ” “The soul of honor!” replied the pedagogue, complacently — “ that is excellently said. Well, then, Mr. Burke, I shall not deal out my confidence by beggarly instalments — I did hear Bryan M’Mahon’s name mentioned ; and I heard a plan alluded to be- tween you and them for reducing him to — ” “That was all humbug, Finigan, so far as I am concerned; but for the present I am obliged to let them suppose what you allude to, in order to keep them honest to myself if I can. You know they have a kind of hereditary hatred against the M’Ma- hons ; and if I did not allow them to take their own way in this, I don’t think I could depend on them.” “Well, there is raison in that too,” replied Finigan. “ I am sure, Finigan,” proceeded Hycy, “ that you are too honorable a man to breathe either to Bryan M’Mahon or any one else, a single syllable of the conversation which you overheard merely by acci- dent. I say I am certain you will never let it trans- pire either by word of mouth or writing. In me you may always calculate on finding a sincere friend ; and of this let me assure you, that your drink, if everything goes right with us, won’t cost you much — much ! not a penny ; if you had two throats in- stead of one — as many necks as Hydra, we should supply them all.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 147 “ Give me your lian(l,Mr. Ilycy — you are agintle- man, and I always said would be one— I did, sir — I pr<'gnoslicaied as much years ago; aiid sincerely fcdiciious am I tliat rny prognostications iiave been verified for so far. I said you would rise — that ex:- aliaiion was before you— and that your friends inight not feel at all surprised at the elevated position in which you will die. Propiao tibi^ again — and do not fear that ever revelation of mine shall facilitate any catastrophe that may await you.” llycy looked keenly into the schoolmaster’s fice as he uttered the last observations ; but in the maiKllin and collapsed features then before him he could read nothing that intimated the sagacity of a double meaning. This satisfied i)im ; and after once more exacting from Finigan, a pledge of what he termed honorable confidence, he took his departure. 148 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHAOARRA. CHAPTER IX. A LITTLE POLITICS, MUCH FRIENDSHIP, AND SOME MYSTEEY. This coramuTiication determined Hycy to forego his intention for the present, and he consequently allowed the summer and autumn to pass without keeping up much intercourse with either Teddy Phats or the Hogans. Tlie truth is, that Burke, al- though apparently frank and candid, was constitu- tionally cautious, and inclined a good deal to suspi- cion. He feared that no project, the knowledge of which was held in common with Finigan, could be long kept a secret; and for this reason he made up his mind to postpone the matter, and allow it to die away out of the schoolmaster's mind ere lie bestowed any further attention upon it. In the mean time, tlie state of tlie country was gradually assuming a worse and more depressing character. The season was unfavorable; and although we do not assert that many died of immediate faudne, yet we know that hundreds — nay, thousands — died Irorn the con- sequence of scarcity and destitution — or, in plainer words, from fever and other diseases induced by bad and insufficient food, and an absence of the necessary cornforls of life. Indee<1, at the period of our narra- tive, tlie position of Ireland was very gloomy ; but when we may ask, has it been otherwise, within the memory ol man, or the records of history ? Placed THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 149 as the country was, emigration went forward on an ' extensive scale, — emigration, too, of that peculiar description which every day enfeebles ainl im- poverishes the country, by depriving her of all tliat approaches to anything bke a comfortable and inde- ])endent yeomanry. This, indeed, is a kind of de- pletion which no country can bear long; and, as it is, at the moment we are writing this, progressing at a rate beyond all precedent, it will not, we trust, be altogether uninteresting to inquire into some of the causes that liave occasioned it. Let not our readers apprehend, however, that we are about to turn our liciiiious narrative into a dissertation on po- litical economy. Of course, the principal cause of emigration is the poverty and depressed state of the country; and it follows naturally, that whatever occasions our poverty will necessarily occasion emigration. The first cause of our poverty then, is Absenteeism, which, by drawing six or seven millions out of the country, deprives our people of employment and means of li(e to that amount. The next is the gene- ral inattention of Irish landlords to the state and condition of their own property, and an inexcusable want of sympathy with their tenantry, which, in- deed, is only a corollary from the former; for it can liardly be expected that those who wilfully neglect themselves will f el a w^arm interest in others. The next is the evil of sub-letting, by which property be- comes overloadfd with human beinor'i, who, for the most part, are bound by no ties wiiatsoever to the owner of the soil. He is not their landlord, nor are 150 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. they his tenants; and so far from their interests be- ing in any way reciprocal, they are actually adversa- tive. It is his interest to have them removed, and, as circumstances unfortunately stand it is theirs to remain, inasmuch as their alternative is ruin since they have no plane of shelter to receive them. Political coiTuplion, in the shape of the forty-shil- ling franchise, was another cause, and one of the very worst, which led to the prostration of the coun- try by poverty and moral degradation, and for this the proprietors of the soil are solely responsible. Nor can the use of the potato, as the staple food of the laboring classes, in connexion with the truck system, and the consequent absence of money pay- ments, ill addition to the necessary ignorance of domestic ancpsocial comforts that resulted from them, be left out of this wretched catalogue of our grie- vances. Another cause of emigration is to be found in the liigh and exorbitant rents at which land is held by all classes of farmers — with some exceptions we admit, as in the case of old leases — but especially by those who hold under middlemen, or on the prin- ciple of sub-letting generally. By this system a vast deal of distress and petty but most harrassing oppression is every day in active operation upon the property of the liead landlord, wdiich he can never know, and for which he is in no other way responsi- ble unless by having ever permitted the existence of it, for any purpose whatsoever. In a country distracted like Ireland, it would be impossible to omit the existence of political and re- ligious animosity as a strong and prominent cause THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 151 of our wretched poverty, and consequently of emi- gration, The priest, instead of leaving temporal alfairs to temporal men, most improperly mingles himself in the angry turmoils of politics, to whicli by liis inteifeieiice he communicates a peculiar and characteristic bitterness. Ti»e landlord, on the other hand, having his own interests to consult, does not; wish to arm a political opponent with such powers as he knows will most assuredly be turned against himself, and consequently often refuses to grant a lease unless to those who will pledge themselves to support him. This state of things, involving, as it does, much that is wrong on both sides, is, has been, and will be, a present and permanent curse to the country — a curse, too, which, until there is more of liuinanity and justice on the one side, and of educa- tion and liberal feeling on the other, is not likely to dispppear from the country. Though last, not least, comes the unaccountable and guilty neglect of our legislature (if we can call it ours) in every thirig that pertained to Irish inter- ests. Thi-5, together with its almost necessary con- sequence of dishonest agitation on the one hand, and well founded dissatisfaction on the other, near- ly completes the series of the causes which have produced the poverty of the country^, and, as a di- rect result, the emigration of all tl.at is most com- fortable, independent, and moral among us. This poverty, arising, a^ it does, from so many causes, has propagated itself with a ra})i«lily which is startling; f<»r every one knows that poverty is proverbially prolihc. Any yet it is a grievous ano- 152 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. maly to reflect that a country so far steeped in mis- ery and destitution as to have nearly one-half of its population in a state of most pitiable pauperism, possesses a soil capable of employing and maintain- ing three limes the number of its inhabitants. When the causes, however, which we have just enu- merated are seriously looked at and considered, wo think its extraordinary result is, after all, so very natural, that the wonder would indeed be were the state of Ireland otherwise than it is. As matters stand at present, and as they are likely to continue, unless parliament shall interfere by a comprehensive measure of legislation, we must only re-t contented with seeing the industrious moral, and respectable portion of our countrymen abandoning the land of their birth and affections, and nothing but the very dregs — degraded alike by idleness and immorality — remaining behind to multiply and perpetuate their own wretchedness and degradation. It has been often said, and with great truth, that no man is more devotedly attached to his native soil than an Irishman ; yet it may reasonably be asked, how this pri»iciple of attachment can be re- conciled with the strong tendency to emigration which characterizes our people. We reply, that the tendency in question is a proof of the love of honest industry, enterprise, and independence, by which our countrymen, when not degraded by ne- glect and poverty, are actuated. It is not of this class, however, so degraded that we now speak. On the contrary we take the decent and respectable farmer as the subject of our illustration — the man THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 153 who, loving his native fields as if they were of his blood, would almost os soon part with the one as the other. This man it is who, with the most child- like tenderness of affection towards the land on which he and his have lived for centuries, will nevertlieless, the moment he finds himself on tlie decline, and with no cheering hope of prosperity or encouragement before him or his family, resolutely determine to forget everything but the noble duties which he owes to himself and them. He sees clear- ly, from the unhappy state of the country, and the utter want of sympathy and attention which he ex- periences at the hands of those who ought to have his interests at heart, that if he attempt to hold his position under circumstances so depressing and un- favorable, he must gradually sink, until he and his become mingled with the great mass of pauperism which lies like an incubus upon the energies of the country. What, therefore, can possibly prove more strongly than this that the Irishman who is not dragged into the swamp of degradation, in which hope and energy are paralyzed, is strongly and heroically characterized by those virtues of in- dustry and enterprise that throw their lustre over social life ? There are other and still more indefensible causes, however, which too frequently drive the independ- ent farmer out of the country. In too many cases it hajq)ens that the rapacity and dishonesty of the agent, countenanced or stimulated by the necessities and reckless extravagance of the landlord, fall, like some unwholesome blight, upon that enterprise and 154 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. industry which would ultimately, if properly en- couraged, make the country prosperous and her landed proprietors independent men. We allude to the nefarious and monstrous custom of ejecting t( n- ants who have made improvements, or, when per- mitted to remain, making them pay for the improve- ments which they have made. A vast propor- tion of this crying and oppressive evil must be laid directly to the charge of those who fill the responsible situation of agents to property in Ireland, than whom in general there does not exist, a more unscrupulous, oppressive, arrogant, and dishonest class of men. Exceptions of course there are and many, but speaking of them as a body, we unhappily assert nothing but what the condition of property, and of those who live upon it, do at this moment and have for many a year testified. Several months had now elapsed, and although the M’Mahons had waited upon the agent once or twice since the interview which we have already described between him and Tom, yet there seemed no corresponding anxiety on the part of Fetherton- ge to have the leases prepared or executed. This neglect or reluctance did not occasion much uneasi- ness to the old man, who was full of that generous and unsuspecting confidence that Ids countrymen al- ways repose in the promise of a landlord respecting a lease, which they look upon, or did at least, as something absolutely inviolable and sacred, as in- deed it ought to be. Bryan, however, who although a young man, was not destitute of eitlier observa- tion or the experience which it bestows, and who THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADAERA. 155 moreover, had no disposition to place unlimited confidence in Felliertonge, began to entertain some vague suspicions with reference to the dela3\ Feihertunge, however, had not the reputation of being a harsh man, or particularly unjust in his dealings with the world ; on the contrary, he was ratiier liked than otherwise ; for so soft was the me- lody of his voice, and so irresistible the friendship and urbanity of ids manner, that many persons felt as much gratified by the refusal of a favor from him as they did at its being granted by another. At length, towards the close of October, Bryan himself told his father that he would call upon the agent and urge him to expedite the matter of the leases. ‘‘ I don’t know liow it is,” said he, but some way or other I don’t feel comfortable about this business: Fethertongue is very civil and very dacent, and is well spoken of in general; but for all that there’s always a man here an’ there that says he’s not to be depended on.” Troth an’ he is to be depended on,” said his generous father; “ ids words isn’t like the words of a desaver, and it isn’t till he shows the cloven foot tijat ril ever give in that he’s dishonest.” ‘‘Well,” said Bryan, “I’rn sure I for one hope you may be right ; but, at any rate, as he’s at home now I’ll start and see him.” “Do tiien,” said his father, “ bekaise I know you’re a favorite of his; for he tould me so wid his own lips.” “Well,” replied the other, laughing, “I hope you’re right there too ; I’m sure I have no objec- 156 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. tion;” and he accordingly set out to see Fether- tonge, but with something of an impression that the object of his visit was not likely to be accom- plished without difficulty, if accomplished at all. On reaching the agent’s house he met a thiij, tall man, named Clinton, with a hooked nose and sinis- ter aspect, riding down the avenue, after having paid Fethertonge a visit. This person was the gauger of the district, a bachelor and a man of con- siderable wealth, got together, it is suspected, by practices that were not well capable of bear- ing the light. Ilis family consisted of a niece and a nephew, the latter of whom had recently be- come a bosom friend of the accomplished II}' cy Burke, who, it was whispered, began to look upon Miss Clinton with a partial eye. Ilycyhad got acquaint- ed with him at the Herrino:stown races, where he, Hycy, rode and won a considerable sweepstakes; and as both young gentlemen were pretty much of the same habits of life, a very warm intimacy had, for some time past, subsisted between them. Clin- ton, to whom M'Mahon was known, addressed him in a friendly manner, and, after some chat, he laid the point of his whip gently upon Bryan’s shoulder, BO as to engage his attention. ‘‘ M’Mahon,'” said he, I am glad I have met you, and I trust our meeting will be for your good. You have had a dispute with Hycy Burke?” Why, sir,” replied Bryan, siniling, “if I had, it wasn’t such as it was worth his while to talk about.” “Well, M’Mahon, that’s generously said on your THE EMIGPwANTS OF AH AD AURA. 15T part — HOW, listen to me ; don’t allow yourself to be drawn into any illegal or illicit proceedings by any one, friend or foe — if so, you will only put yourself into tlie power of your enemies; for enemies you have, 1 can assure you.” “They say, sir, there is no one without them,” re- plied Bryan, smiling ; “ but so far as I am consarned, I don’t exactly understand what you mane. I have no connection with anything, either illegal or — or — wrong in any way, Jlr. Clinton, and if any onetould you so they spoke an untruth.” “Ay, ay,” said Clinton, “that may be so, and I hope it is so ; but you know that it could not be ex- pected you would admit it, even if it be true. Will you, in the mean time, be guided by a friend? I respect your father and his family; I respect your- self, M’Mahon ; and, consequent!}^, my advice to you is — keep out of the meshes of the law — avoid vio- lating it — and remember you have enemies. Now think of these words, and so good-bye, M’Mahon ! Indeed, I am glad for your own sake I met you — good-bye ! ” As he uttered the last words he dashed on and left Bryan in a state of perfect amazement at the strange and incomprehensible nature of the commu- nication he had just received. Indeed, so full was his mind of the circumstance, that forgetting all his sus|)icions of Fethertonge, and urged by the ingenu- ous impulse of an honest heart, he could not prevent himself in the surprise and agitation of the moment from detailing the conversation which he had just had with the guager. 158 THE EMIGRANTS OP AHADARRA. “ That is singular enough,” said Fethertonge — ‘‘ he named Ilycy Burke, then ? ” ‘‘ He did, sir.” ‘‘It is singular,” proceeded the other, a^ if speak- ing to himself; “in truth, my dear M’Mahon, we were talking about you — discussing, in fact, the same subject not many minutes ago ; and what you tell me now is only an additional proof that Clinton, who is sometimes harslily spoken of by the way, is a straightforward, honest man.” “What could he mane, sir?” asked Bryan, “I never had anything to do contrary to the law — I haven’t now, nor do I ever intend to have — ” “ Well, I’m S'»re I do not know,” replied the agent : “ he made no allusion of that kind to me, from a generous apprehension, I dare say, lest he miglit injure you in my opinion. He only desired me not rashly to listen to anything prejudicial to your character; for that you had enemies who were laboring to injure you in some way — but how — he either would not tell, or perhaps did not know. I am glad, however, he mentioned it ; for I shall be guarded should I hear anything to your prejudice.” “I tell you beforehand, sir,” said Bryan, with the conscious warmth of rectitude, “ and I think I ought to know best, that if you ever hear anything agaiijst my honesty or want of principle, or if any one should say that I will be consarned in what’s con- trary to either law or justice, you’ll hear a falsehood — I don’t-care who it comes from— and the man who tells y^ou so is a liar.” “I should be sorry to believe otherwise, my dear THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 159 Bryan; it would grieve me to be forced to believe otherwise. If you suffer yourself to be drawn into anytiiing wrong or improper, you will be the first individual of your family that ever brought a stain upon it. It would grieve me — deeply would it grieve me, to witness such a blot upon so honest — but no, I will not, for I cannot, suppose it.” Bryan, whose disposition was full of good-nature and cheerfulness, could not help bursting into a hearty laugh, on revertingto the conversation winch he had had with Clinton, and comparing it with that in which they were now engaged ; both of which were founded upon some soap-bubble charge of which he knew nothing. “You take it lightly,” said Fethertonge, with something of a serious expression ; “ but remember, my dear Bryan, that I now speak as one interested in, and, in fact, representing the other members of your family. Remember, at all events, you are fore- warned, and, in the meantime, I thank Clinton — al- though I certainly would not have mentioned names. Bryan, you can have no objection that I should speak to your father on tliis subject? ” “Not the slightest, sir,” replied Bryan ; spake to any one you like about it ; but, putting that aside, sir, for the present — about these leases? ” “ Why, what apprehension have you about them, Bryan?” “ No apprehension, sir, sartinly ; but you know yourself, Mr. Fethertonge, that to a man like me, that’s lay in’ out and expendin’ money every day upon Ahadarra farm, and my father the same way 160 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. upon Carnglass — I Fay, to a man like me, to be lay in’ out his money, when you know yourselt' that if the present landlord should refuse to carry his father’s dyiii’ words into effect — or, as you said this minute yourself, sir, if some enemy should turn you against me, aran’t I and my father and the wliole family liable to be put out, notwithstanding all the improve- ments we’ve made, and the money we’ve spent in makin’ them ? ” “ Bryan,” said Fethertonge, after a pause, ‘‘ every word you say is unfortunately too true — too true — and such things are a disgrace to the country; in deed I believe they seldom occur in any country but this. Will it in the meantime satisfy you when I state that, if old Mr. Ohevydale’s intentions are not carried into effect by his son, I shall forthwith resign my agency?” Bryan’s conscience, generous as he was, notwith- standing his suspicions, smote him deeply on hear- ing this determination so unequivocally expressed. Indeed the wh(de tenor of their dialogue, taken in at one view — especially Fethertonge’s intention of speaking to Tom M’Mahon upon the mysterious sub ject of Bryan’s suspected delinquencies against the law — so thoroughly satisfied him of the injus- tice he had rendered Fethertonge, that he was for a time silent. At length he replied — “That, sir, is more than we could expect ; but at any rate there’s one thing I’tn now sartin of — that, if we’re disappointed, you won’t be the cause of it.” “Yes; but of course you must put disappoint- THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 161 ment out of the question. The landlord will, with- out any doubt, grant tl)e leases — I am satisfied of • that; indeed there can be no doubt about it. By the way, I am anxious to see Ahadarra, and to ascer- tain the extent to wijich you have cariied your im- provements. Clinton and I will probably take a ride up there some day soon; and in the meantime do you keep improving, M’Mahon, for that’s the se- cret of all success — leave the rest to me. How is your father ? ” “Never was better, sir, I’m thankful to you.” “ And your grandfather? how does he bear up ?” “Faitli, sir, wonderfully, considering his age.” “ He must be very old now ? ” “ He’s ninety-four, sir, and that’s a long age sure enough ; but I’m sorry to say that my mother’s healtli isn’t so well.” “Why, what is the matter with her? I’m sorry to hear this.” “ Indeed we can’t say; she’s very poorly — her ap- petite is gone — she has a cough, an’ she doesn’t get her rest at night.” “ Why don’t you get medical advice? ” “ So we did, sir. Dr. Sexton’s attendin’ her; but I don’t think somehow that he has a good opinion of her.” “ Sexton’s a skilful man, and I don't think she Could be in better hands; however, Bryan, I shall feel obliged if you will send down occasionally to let me know how she gets on — once a week or so.” “Indeed we will, sir; an’ I needn’t say how much 162 THE EMIGKANTS OF AHADARRA. we feel obliged to you for your kindness and good wishes.” “It must be more than good wishes, Bryan; but I trust lhat she will get better. In the mean time leave the other matters to rne, and you may expect Clinton and I up at your farm to look some of these days.” “God forgive me,” thought Bryan, as he left the hall-door, “for the injustice I did him, by supposin’ for one minute that he wasn’t disposed to act fairly towards us. My father was right ; an’ it was fool- ish of me to put my wit against his age an’ experi- ence. Oh, no, that man’s honest— there can’t be any mistake about it.” From this topic he could not help reverting, as lie pursued his way home, to the hints he had re- ceived with respect to Hycy Burke’s enmity towards liirn, the cause of which he could not clearly under- stand. Ilycy Burke had, in general, the character of being a generous, dashing young fellow, with no fault unless a disposition to gallantry and a thought- less inclination for extravagance; for such were the gentle terms in which habits of seduction and an unscrupulous profligacy in the expenditure of money, were clothed by those who at once fleeced and de- spised him, but who were numerous enough to im- press those opinions upon a great number of the ])eople. In turning over matters as tln-y stood be- tween them, he could trace Burke’s enmity to no adequate cause ; nor indeed could he believe it pos- sible that he ent< rtnined any such inveterate feeling of hostility against him. They had of late frequently THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 163 met, on which occasion Hycy spoke to him w^ith nearly as much cordiality as ever. Still however he could not altosrether Iree himself from the con- o viction, that both Clinton and Fethertonge must have had unquestionable grounds for the hints which they had in such a friendly way thrown out to him. In this mood he was proceeding when he heard the noise of horses’ feet behind, and in a few minutes Hycy himself and young Clinton overtook him at a rapid pace. Their conversation was friendly as usual, when Bryan, on seeing Hycy about to dash off at the same rapid rate, said, ‘‘ If you’re not in a particular hurry, Hycy, I’d wish to have a word wdth you.” Tlje latter immediately pulled up, exclaiming, “ A word, Bryan ! ay, a hundred — certainly. Clinton, ride on a bit, will you? till I have some conversa- tion with M’Mahon. Well, Bryan?” “ Hycy,” proceeded Bryan, “ I always like to be aboveboard. Will you allow me to ask if you have any bad feelirjgs against me ? ” “ Will you answer me another question?” replied Ilycy. “ If I can I will,” said Bryan. ‘‘ Well, then,” replied Hycy, “ I will answer you most candidly, Bryan — not the slightest; but I do assure you that I thought y^ou had such a feeling against me.” “And you wor right, too,” returned Bryan “for I really had.” “ I remember,” proceeded Hycy, “ that when I 164 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. asked you to lend me thirty-five pounds — and by the way that reminds me that I am still pretty deep in your debt — you would neither lend it nor give any satisfactory reason why you refused me ; now, what occasioned that feeling, Bryan ? ’’ “It’s by the merest chance that I happen to have the cause of it in my pocket,” replied M’Mahon, who, as he spoke, handed him the letter which Peety Dhu had delivered to him from Hycy himself. “Read that,” said he, “ and I think you’ll have no great trouble in understanding why I felt as I did; — an’ indeed, Hycy, to tell you the truth, I never had the same opinion of you since.” Hycy, to his utter amazement, read as follows : “ My Dear Miss Cavan agh : — “ Will you permit little Cupid, the god of Love, to enrol the name of Hycy Burke on the long list of your adorers? And if you could corrupt the little stone blind divinity to blot out every name on it but my own, I should think that a very handsome anticipation of the joys of Paradise could be realized by that delightful fact. I say anticipation — for ray creed is, that the actual joys of Paradise exist no- where but within the celestial circle of your am- brosial arms. That is the Paradise which I propose to win; and you may rest assured that I shall bring the most flaming zeal, the most fervent devotion, and all the genuine piety of a true worshipper, to the task of attaining it. I shall carry, for instance, a little Bible of Love in my pocket — for I am already a divinity student or a young collegian under little THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 165 Cupid aforesaid — and I will have it all dog-eared with refreshing texts for my edification. I should stale, however, that I am, as every good Christian is, awfully exclusive in my creed ; and will suller no on-‘, if I can prevent it, to approach the Paradise I speak of but myself. In fact I am as jealous as the very Deuce — whoever that personage may be — quite an Otliello in my way — a perfect raw-head-and- bloody-bones — with a sharp appetite and teeth like a Walrus, ready to bolt my rivals in dozens. It is said, my divine creature, or rather it is hinted, that a certain clodhopping boor, from the congenial wilds of Ahadarra, is favored by some benignant glances from those ligiits of yours that do mislead the moon. I hope this is not so — bow wow ! — ho, ho! — I smell the blood of a rival ; and be he great or small, red or black, or of any color in the rainbow, I shall have l)im for my breakfast — ho ! ho ! You see now, my most divine Kathleen, what a terrible animal to all rivals and competitors for your affections I shall be ; and that if it were only for their own sakes, and to prevent carnage and cannibalism, it will be well for you to banish them once and for ever, and be con- tent only with myself. ‘•Seriously, my dear Kathleen, I believe I am half crazed ; and, if so, you are the sole cause of it. I can think of no other object than your beautiful self; and I need scarcely say, that I shall have neither peace nor happiness unless I shall be fortun- ate enough to gain a place in your tender bosom. As for the Ahadan a man, I am surprised you should think of such an ignorant clodhopper — a fellow 166 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. whose place Providence specially allotted to be be- tween the stilts of a plough, and at the tail of a pair of horses. Perhaps you would be kind enougli to take a walk on Thursday evening, somewhere near the river — where I hope I shall have an opportunity of declaring my affection for you in person. At all events I shall be there with the ardent expectation of meeting you. “Ever your devoted worshipper, “IIycy Burke. ‘‘P.S. — Beware the clodhopper — bow wow! — ho ! ho ! ” On looking at the back of this singular produc- tion he was thunderstruck to perceive that it was addressed to “Mr. Bryan M’Mahon, Ahadarra ” — the fact being that, in the liurry of the moment, he had misdirected the letters — Bryan M’Mahon having re- ceived that which had been intended for Kathleen, who, on the contrary, was pressing! y solicited to lend him thirty-five j)ounds in order to secure “ Crazy Jane.” Having perused this precious production, Hycy, in spite of liis chagrin, was not able to control a most irresistible fit of laughter, in which he indulged for some minutes. The mistake being now discov- ered in Bryan’s case was necessarily discovered in that of both, a circumstance which to Hycy, who now fully understood the nature and conse(]uences of his blunder, was, as we have stated, the subject of extraordinary mirth, in which, to tell the truth, Bryan could not prevent himself from joining him. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 16 t “ Well, but after all, Bryan,” said he, “ what is there in this letter to make you angry with me? Don’t you see it’s a piece of humbug from beginning to end.” “I do, and I did,” replied Bryan; “ but at that time I had never spoken upon the subject of love or marriage to Katlileen Cavanagh, and I had no au- thority nor right to take any one to task on her account, but, at the same time, I couldn’t even then either like or respect, mucli less lend money to, any man that could humbug her, or treat such a girl with disrespect — and in that letther you can’t deny that you did both.” ‘‘ I grant,” said Hycy, “that it was a piece of hum- bug certainly, but not intended to offend her.” “I’m afraid there was more in it, Hycy,” observed Bryan ; “ an’ that if she had been foolish or inex- perienced enough to meet you or listen to your dis- course, it might a’ been worse for herself. You were mistaken there though.” “She is not a girl to be humbugged, I grant, Bryan — very far from it, indeed ; and now that you and she understand each other I will go farther for both your sakes, and say, that I regret having written such a letter to such an admirable young woman as she is. To tell you the truth, Bryan, I shall half envy you the possession of such a wife.” “As to that,” replied the other, smiling, “ we’ll keep never minding — but you have spoken fairly and honestly on the subject of the letther, an’ I’m thank- ful to you; still, Hycy, you haven’t answered my 168 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. first question — liave y()U any ill feeling against me, or any intention to injui*e me ? ” “Neither one nor the other. I pledge you rny honor and word I have no ill feeling against you, nor any design to injure you.” “Tliat’s enough, Hycy,” replied his companion ; “I think I’m bound to believe your words.” “You are^ Bryan ; but will you allow me to ask if any one ever told you that I had — and if so, who was the person ?” “It’s enough for you to know,” said Bryan, “that whoever told it to me I don’t believe it.” “ I certainly liave a right to know,” returned Hycy ; “ but as the matter is false, and every way unfoun(]ed, I’ll not press you upon it — all I can say to satisfy you is, what I have said already — that I entertain no ill will or unfriendly feeling towards you, and, consequently, can have no eartidy inten- tion of doing you an injury even if I could, although at the present moment I don’t see how, even if I was willing.” “ You have nothing particular that you’d wish to say to me ? ” “ No : devil a syllable.” “Nor a proposal of any kind to make me ? Hycy pulled up his horse. “ Bryan, my good friend, let me look at you,” he exclaimed. “ Is it right to have you at large? My word and honor I’lii beginning to fear that there’s something wrong with your upper works.” “Never mind,” replied Bryan, laughing, “I’m satisfied — the thing’s a mistake — so there’s my hand THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 169 to yon, Tlycy. IVe no suspicion of the kind against you and it’s all rigiit.” “ Wliat proposal, in heaven’s name, could I have to make to you?” exclaimed Hycy. ‘‘There now,” continued Bryan, “that’ll do; didn’t I say I was satisfied? Move on, now and overtake your friend — by the way he’s a fine horse- man, they say ?” “ Very few better,” said Hycy ; “ but some there are — and 07ie I know — ha! ha! ha! Good-bye, Bryan, and don’t be made a fool of for noth- ing.” Bryan nodded and laughed, and Hycy dashed on to overtake his friend Clinton. M’Mahon’s way home lay by Gerald Cavan agh’s house, near which as he approached he saw Nanny Peety in close conversation with Kate Hogan. The circumstance, knowing their relationship as he did, made no impression whatsoever upon him, nor would he have bestowed a thought upon it, had he been left to his own will in the matter. Tlie women sep- erated ere he had come within three hundred yards of them; Kate, who had evidently been c >nvoying her niece a part of the way, having returned in the direction of Cavanagh’s, leaving Nanny to pursue her journey home, by which she necessarily met M’Mahon. “ Well, Nanny,” said the 1 itter, “ how are you ? ” “Faix, very well, I thank you, Bryan • how are all the family in Can iglass ? ” “Barring my mother, they’re all well, Nanny. I was glad to hear you got so good a place, an’ I’m 8 170 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. still betther plaised to see you look so well — for it’s a proof that you feel comfortable in it.” “Why I can’t complain,” she replied ; “but you know there’s no one widout their throubles.” “Troubles, Nanny,” said Bryan, with surprise; “ why surely, Nanny, barrin’ it’s love, I don’t see what trouble you can have.” “ Well, and may be it is,” said the girl, smil- ing. “ Oh, in that case,” replied Bryan, “I grant you’re to be pitied ; poor thing, you look so ill and pale upon it, too. An’ what is it like,” Nanny — this same love that’s on you ? ” “ Faig,” she replied, archly, “ it’s well for you that Miss Kathleen’s not to the fore or you daren’t ax any one sich a question as thaV^ “ Well done, Nanny,” he returned ; “ do you think she knows what it’s like ?” “ It’s not me,” she repiied again, “ you ought to be axin’ sich a question from ; if you don’t know it I dunna who ought.” “Begad, you’re sharp an’ ready, Nanny,” replied Bryan, laughing; “well, and how are you all in honest Jemmy Burke’s ?” “ Some of us good, some of us bad, and some of us indifferent, but, thank goodness, all in the best o’ health.” “ Good, bad, and indifferent,” replied Bryan, paus- ing a little. “Well, now, Nanny, if one was to ask you who is the good in your family, what would you say ? ” “ Of ccorse myself,” she returned ; “ an’ stay — let THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 171 me see — ay, the masthcr, honest Jemmy, he and I have tlie goodness between ns.” “And wlio’s ihe indifferent, Nanny?” ‘ Wait,” she replied ; ** yes — no doubt of it — if not worse — why the mistress must come in for that, I think.” “ And now for tlie bad, Nanny ? ” She shook lier head before she spoke. “Ah,” she proceeded, “ there would be more in that house on the bad list than there is, if he had his way.” “ If who had his way ? ” “ jMasther Ilycy.” “ Wiiy is he the had among you?” “ Thank* God I know him now,” she replied, “ an’ lie knows I do; but he doesn’t know how well I know him.” “ Why, Nanny, are you in airnest ?” asked Bryan, a good deal surprised, and not a little interested at what he heard, “ surely I tiiought Mr. Ilycy a good- liea'ted generous young fellow that one could de- pend upon, at all events?” “Ah, it’s little you know him,” she replied; “and I could” — she looked at him, and paused. “You could whiit?” he asked. “I could tell you something, but I daren’t.” “ Daren’t ; why what ought you be afraid of?” “ It’s no matther, I darn’t an’ that’s enough ; only aren’t you an’ Kathleen Cavanagh goiu’ to be mar- ried ? ” “We will be married, I hope.” Well, then, keep a shar[) look-out, an’ take care her father an’ mother doesn’t turn against you some 172 THE EMIG HANTS OF AHADARRA. o’ these days. There’s many a slip between the cup and the lip ; that’s all I can say, an’ more than I oii2:ht : an’ if you ever mention my name, its niurd- hered I’ll be.” “An’ how is Hycy consarned in this? or is he consarned in it ?” “ He is, an’ he is not ; I dursn’t tell you more; but I’m not afraid of him^ so far from that, I could soon — but wliat am I sayin? Good-bye, an’ as I said, keep a sharp look-out and having uttered these words, she tripped on hastily and left him ex- ceedingly surprised at what she had said. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADAERA. 173 CHAPTER X. A FAMILY DEBATE — MORE OF THE HYCY CORRESPOND- ENCE —HONEST SPECULATIONS. Kathleen's refusal to dance, at the kemp, with Ilycy Burke, drew down upon her the loud and ve- hement indignation of lier parents, both of whom looked upon a matrimonial alliance with the Burkes as an oigect exceedingly desirable, and such as would reflect considerable credit on tliemselves. Gerald Cavanagh and his wife were certainly persons of the strictest integrity and virtue. Kind, charitable, overflowing with hospitality, and remarkable for the domestic virtues and affections in an extraordi- nary degree, they were, notwithstanding, extremely weak-minded, and almost silly, in consequence of an over-weening anxiety to procure ‘‘great matches” for their children. Indeed it may be observed, that natural affection frequently assumes this shape in the paternal heart, nor is the vain ambition confin- ed to the Irish peasant alone. On the contrary, it may be seen as frequently, if not more so, in the middle and liigher classes, where it has ampler scope to work, than in humbler and more virtuous life. It is til is proud and lidiculous principle which con- signs youth, and beauty, and innocence, to the arms of some dissipated profligate of rank, merely because he happens to inherit a title which he disgraces. There is, we would wager, scarcely an individual 174 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. who knows the world, but is acquainted with some family laboring under this insane anxiety for con- nexion. Sometimes it is to be found on the paternal side, but, like most of those senseless inconsistencies which entail little else than ridicule or ruin, and sometimes both, upon those who are the object of them, it is, for the most part, a female attribute. Such as it is, however, our friend, Gerald Cavan- agh, and his wife — who, by the way, bore the do- mestic sceptre in all matters of importance — both possessed it in all its amplitude and vigor. When the kemp had been broken up that night, and the famil}^ assembled, Mrs. Cavanagh opened the debate in an oration of great heat and bitterness, but sadly deficient in moderation and logic. ^ “ What on earth could you mane, Kathleen,” she proceeded, “to refuse dancin’ wid such a young man — a gintleman I ought to say — as Hycy Burke, the son of the wealthiest man in the whole parish, bar- ring the g<*ntry? Where is the girl that wouldn’t bounce at him ? — that wouldn’t lave a single card unturned to secure him? Won’t he have all his father’s wealth ? — won’t he have all his land when the ould man dies ? and indeed it’s he that will live in jinteel style when he gets everything into his own hands, as he ought to do, an’ not go dhramin’ an’ dhromin’ about like his ould father, without bein’ sartin whether he’s alive or not. He would be something for you, girl, something to turn out wid, an’ that one could feel proud out of; but indeed, Kathleen, as for pride and decency, you never had as much o’ them as you ought, nor do you hold your THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 175 head as higli as many another girl in your place would do. Deed and throth I’m vexed at you, and asiiamed of you, to go for to hurt his feeliiis as you did, widout either rhyme or raison.” “Tiiroth,” said her father, taking up the argu- ment where she left it, “ I dunna how I’ll look the respectable young man in the face afther the way you insulted him. Why on airth wouldn’t you dance wid him ?” “ Because, father, I don’t like him.” “ An’ why don’t you like him ? ” asked her mother. “Where is there his aquil for either face or figure in the parish, or the barony itself? But I know the cause of it; you could dance with Bryan M’Mahon. But take this with you — sorra ring ever Bryan M’- Mahon will put on you wid my consent or your father’s, w^hile there’s any hope of Ilycy Burke at any rate.” Kathleen, during this long harangue, sat smiling and sedate, turning her beautiful and brilliant eyes sometimes upon one parent, sometimes upon anoth- er, and occasionally glancing with imperturbable sweetness and good nature at her sister Hanna. At lengtii, on getting an opportunity of speaking, she replied, — “ Don’t ask me, mother, to give anything in the way of encouragement to Ilycy Burke ; don’t ask me, I entrate you, for God’s sake — the tiling’s im- possible, and I couldn’t do it. I liave no wisli for his father’s money, nor any w^ish for the poor gran- deur that you, mother dear, atid my father, seem to set your heart upon. I don’t like Hycy Burke — I ne THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. could never like him ; and rather than marry him, I declare solemnly to God, I would prefer going into my grave.” As she uttered the last words, which she did with an earnestness that startled them, her fine features became illuminated, as it were, with a serene and brilliant solemnity of expression that was strikingly impressive and beautiful. Why couldn’t you like him, now?” asked her father; “sure, as your mother says, there’s not his aquil for face or figure within many a mile of him ? ” “ But it’s neither face nor figure that I look to most, father.” “ Well, but think of his wealth, and the style he’ll live in, 1 11 go bail, when he gets married.” “ That style maybe won’t make his wife happy. No, father, it’s neither face, nor figure, nor style, that I look to, but truth, pure affection, and upright principle; now^^, I know that Hycy Burke has nei- ther truth, nor affection, nor principle; an’ I won- dher, besides, that you could think of my ever mar- rying a man that has already destroyed the happi- ness of two innocent girls, an brought desolation, an’ sorrow, an’ shame, upon two happy families. Do you think that I will ever become the wife of a pro- fligate? An’ is it you, father, and still more yon, mother, that’s a woman, that can urge me to think of joining my fate to that of a man that has neither shame nor pi inciple ? I thought that if you didn’t respect decency’’ an’ truth, and a regard for what is right and proper, that, at all events, you would re- THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 177 spect the feeliogs of your chiLl that was taught their value. I^oth parents h it somewhat abashed by the force of llie truth and the evident superiority of ber character; but in a minute or two her worthy fath- er, from wliose dogged obstinacy she inlierited the firmness and resolution for which she had ever been remarkable, again returned to the subject. If ITycy Burke was wild. Kathleen, so was many a good man before him ; an’ that’s no raison but he may turn out well yet, an’ a credit to his name, as I haye no doubt he will. All that he did was only folly an’ imiiscrelion — we can’t be too hard or un- charitable upon our fellow-craytures.” “ No,” chimed in her mother, “ we can’t. Doesn’t all the world know that a reformed rake makes a good husband? — an’ besides, didn’t them two liuzzies bring it on themselves ? why didn’t they keep from him as they ought? The fault, in such cases, is never all on one side.” Kathleen’s brow and face and whole neck became crimson, as her mother, in the worst spirit of a low and degrading ambition, uttered the sentiments we have just written. Hanna had been all tliis time sitting beside her, with one arm on her shoulder; but Kathleen, now turning round, laid her face on her sister’s bosom, and, with a pressure that indicat- ed shame and bitterness of heart, she wept. Hanna returned this melancholy and distressing caress in tlie same mournful spirit, and both wept together in silence. Gerald Cavanagh was the first who felt something 178 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. like shame at tlie rebuke conveyed by this tearful embrace of his pure-hearted and ingenuous daugh- ters, and he said, addressing liis wife : — “ We’re wror»g to defend him, or any one, for tlie evil he has done, bekaise it can’t be defended ; but in the mane time, every day will bring him more sense an’ experience, an’ he w^on’t repale this work ; besides, a wife w^ould settle him down.” “ But, father,” said Hanna, now speaking for tlie first time, “ there’s one thing tliat strikes me in the business you’re talkin’ about, an it’s this — how do you know w’^hether Hycy Burke has any notion, good, bad, or indifferent, of marrying Kath- leen ? ” “ Why,” replied her mother, “didn’t he write to her upon the subject.” . “ Why, indeed, mother, it’s not an easy thing to answer that question,” replied Hanna. “Slie sar- tinly resaved a letther from liim, an’ indeed, I think,” she added, her animated face brightening into a smile, “ that as the boys is gone to bed we had as good read it.” “ No, Hanna, darling, don’t,” said Kathleen — “ I beg you won’t read it.” “ Well, but I beg I wdll,” she replied ; “ it’ll show them, at any rate, w^hat kind of a reformation is likely to come over him. I have it herein my pock- et — ay, this is it. Now, father,” she procet ded, looking at the letter, “here is a letter, seiit to my sister — ‘To Miss Cavanagh,’ that’s what’s on the back of it — and what do you think Hycy, the spor- theen, asks her to do for him?” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADAERA. 179 “Win", T suppose,” replied her mother, “to run away wid him ? ” “ No.” “ Then to give her consent to marry him?” said her father. “ Both out,” replied Hanna; “ no, indeed, but to lend him live-and- thirty pounds to buy a mare, called Crazy Jane, belonging to Tom Burton, of the Race Boad ! “ ‘ My Dear Bryan — For heaven’s sake, in addi- tion to your other generosities — for which I ac- knowledge myself still in your debt — will you lend me thiriy-tive pounds, to secure a beautiful mare belonging to Tom Burton, of the Race Road ? She is a perfect creature, and w ill, if I am not quick, certainly slip through my fingers. Jemmy, the gen- tleman ’ — “This is what he calls his father, you must know. Jemrny, the gentleman, has promised to stand to me some of these days, and pay off all my trans- gressions, like a good, kind-hearted, soft-headed old Tiojan as he is ; and, for this reason, I don’t wish to press him now. The mare is sold under peculiar circumstances, otherwise I could have no chance of her at such a price. By the way, when did you see Katsey ’ — “Ay, Katsey! — think of that, now — doesn’t he respect your daughter very much, father?” “‘By tlie way, when did you see Katsey Cava- nagh ? — ’ ” “ What is this your readin’ to me ? ” asked her 180 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. father. “You don’t mean to say that this letter is to Kathleen ? ” “Why, no; but so much the better — one has an opportunity now of seein’ what lie is made of. The letter was intended for Bryan M’Maljon; but he sent it, by mistake, to Kathleen. Listen — “ ‘ When did you see Katsey Cavanagh ? She cer- tainly is not ill-looking, and will originate you fa- mous mountaineers. Do, like a good fellow, stand by me at this pinch, and I will drink your Ijealth and Katsey ’s, and that you may — ’(what’s this ?) ‘col — colonize Ahadarra with a race of young Colossuses that the world will wonder at. “‘Ever thine, “ ‘H. Burke.’ “Here’s more, though: listen, mother, to your favorite, that you want to marry Kathleen to : — “ ‘ P. S. I will clear scores with you for all in the course of a few montiis, and remember that, at your marriage, I must, with my own hand, give you away to Katsey, the fair Colossa.’ The perusal of this document, at least so far as they could understand it, astonished them not a little. Until they heard it read both had been of opinion that Ilycy had actually proposed f )r Katlileen, or at least felt exceedingly anxious for the match. ^ An’ does he talk about givin’ her away to Bryan M’Mahon? ” asked her mother. “ Sorrow on his im- pidenoe !— *Bryan M’Mahon indeed ! Tiiroth it’s not upon his country side of wild mountain that Kath- leen will go to live. An’ maybe, too, she has little THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 181 loss in the same Hycy, for, afther all, he’s but a skile of a fellow, an’ a profligate into the bargain.” “Faix an’ his father,” said Gerald — “honest Jem- my — tould me that he’d have it a match whether or not.” “His father did!” exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh; “ now, did he say so, Gerald ? ” “ Well, in troth he did — said that he had set his heart upon it, an’ that if she hadn’t a gown to her back he’d make him marry her.” “ The Lord direct ns for the best ! ” exclaimed his wife, whose opinion of the matter this last piece of information had again changed in favor of ITycy. “ Sure, afther all, one oughtn’t to be too sevare on so young a man. However, as ti»e sayin’ is, ‘ time will tell,’ an’ Kathleen’s own good sense will show her what a match he’d be.” The sisters then retired to bed; but before they went, Kathleen aj^proached her mother, and piitting an open palm affectionately upon each of the good woman’s cheeks, said, in a voice in which there was deep feeling and affection : — “ Good-night, mother dear ! I’m sure you love me, an’ I know it is because you do that you spake in this way ; but I knnw, too, that you wouldn’t make me unhappy and miserable for the wealth of the world, much less for Hycy Burke’s share of it. There’s a kiss for you, and good-night ! — there’s an- other for you, fatlier ; God bless you ! and good-nigh t too. Come, Hanna, darling, come!” In tiiis state matters rested for some time. Br^^an M’Mahon, however, soon got an opportunity of dis- 182 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. closing his intentions to Kathleen, if that can be called disclosing, which was tolerably well known for a considerable time previous to the disclosure. Between them it was arranged that he and his father should make a formal proposal of marriage to lier parents, as the best means of bringing the matter to a speedy issue. Before tliis was done, however, Gerald, at the instigation of his wife, contrived once more to introduce the subject as if by accident, in a conversation with Jemmy Burke, who repeated his anxiety for the match as the best way of settling down his son, and added, that he would lay the matter before Ilyc}’’ himself, with a w^ish that a union should take place between them. Tiiis interview with old Burke proved a stumbling-block in tlie way of M’Maiion. At length after a formal proposal on the behalf of Bryan, and many interviews with ref- erence to it, something like a compromise was effec- ted. Kathleen consented to accept the latter in marriage, but firmly and resolutely refused to hear Burke’s name as a lover or suitor mentioned. Her ])arents, however, hoping that their influence over her miglit ultimately prevail, requested that she would not engage herse f to any one for two years, at the expiration of which period, if no change in her sentiments should take place, she was to be at liberty to marry M’Maiion. For the remainder of the summer and autumn, and up until November, the period at which our narrative has now arrived or, in other words, when Bryan M’Mahon met Nanny Peety, matters had rested precisely in the same po- sition. This unexpected interview with the mendi- THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 183 cant’s dangl) ter, joined to the hints lie had already received, once more cau'^ed M Mahon to feel consid- erably perplexed with regard to llycy Burke. Tiie coiticidence was very remarkable, and the identity of the infornialion, however limited, appeared to him to deserve all the consideration which he could bestow upon it, but above all things he re- solved if possible to extract the secret out of Nanny Peety. One cause of Ilycy Burke’s extravagance was a hospitable habit of dining and giving dinners in the head inn of Bally macan. To ask any of his associ- ates to his father’s house was only to expose tiie ignorance of his parents, and this his pride would not suffer him to do. As a matter of course lie gave all his dinners, unless upon rare occasions, in Jack Shepherd’s excellent inn ; but as young Clinton and he were on terms of the most confidential intimacy, he had asked him to dine on the day in question at his father’s. ‘‘You know, my dear Harry,” he said to his friend, “ there is no use in striving to conceal the honest vulgarity of Jemrny the gentleman from you who know it already. I may say ditto to madam, who is unquestionably the most vulgar of the two — for, and I am sorry to say it, in addition to a super- abundant stock of vulgarity, she has still a larger assortment of the prides ; for instance, pride of wealth, of the pur se, pr ide of — I was going to add, birili — ha! ha! ha! — of person, ay, of beauty, if you please — of her large possessions — but that comes under the purse again — and lastly — but that 184 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. is the only well-founded principle among them — of her accomplished son, Hycy. This, now, being all within your cognizance already, my dear Hal, you take a pig’s cheek and a fowl with me to-day. There will be nobody but ourselves, for when I see com- pany at home I neither admit the gentleman nor the lady to table. Damn it, you know tlie thing would be impossible. If you wish it, however, we sliall probably call in the gentleman after dinner to have a quiz with him ; it may relieve us. I can promise you a glass of wine, too, and that’s anotlier reason why we should keep him aloof until tlie punch comes. The wine’s always a sub stlentio affiir, and, may heaven pity me, I get growling enough from old Bruin on otlier subjects.” “Anything you wish, Ilycy, I am your man ; but somehow I don’t relish the i lea of the quiz you speak of. ‘ Children, obey your parents,’ says Holy Scripture; and I’d as soon not help a young fellow to laugh at his father.” “ A devilish good subject he is, though — but you must know that I can draw just distinctions, Ilal. For instance, I respect his honesty — ” “ And copy it ? eh ? ” “Certainly. I respect his integrity too — in fact, I appreciate all his good qualities, and only laugh at his vulgarity an l foibles.” “You intend to marry, Hycy-?” “ Or, in other words to, call you brother some of these days.” “And to liave sons and daughters? ” “Please the fates.” THE EMIGKANTS OF AHADARRA. 185 ^‘That will do,” replied Clinton, dryly. “ IIo ! ho !” said Hycy, ‘‘ I see. Here’s a mentor W’ith a vengeance — a fellow with a budget of morals cut and dry for immediate use — but hang all morality, say I ; like some of my friends that talk on the sub- ject, I have an idiosyncrasy of constitu.tion against it, but an abundant temperament for pleasure.” “That’s a good definition,” said Clinton; “a mas- ter-touch, a very correct likeness, indeed. I would at once know you from it, and so would most of your friends.” ^ “ This day is Friday,” said Ilycy • “ more growl- ing.” “Why so?” “Why, when I eat meat on a Friday, the pepper and sauce cost me nothing. The ‘gentleman’ lays on hard, but the lady extenuates, ‘in regard to it’s bein’ jinteel.’ ” “ Well, but you have certainly no scruple your- self on the subject ? ” “Yes, I have, sir, a very strong one — in favor of the meat— ha! ha ! ha !” “ D — n me, whoever christened you Ilycy the ac- complished, hit you off.” “ I did myself ; because you must know, my wor- thy Hal, that, along with all my other accomplish- ments, I am my own priest.” “ And that is the reason why you hate the clergy ? eh -ha! ha! ha ! ” “ A hit, a hit, I do confess.” “Harkee, Mr. Priest, will you give absolution — to Tom Corbet ? ” 186 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. ‘‘Ah! Ilal, no more an’ thou lovest me — that sore is yet open. Curse the villain. My word and honor, ILil, ‘ the gentleman ’ was right there. He told me at ihe first glance what she was. Here comes a shower, let us move on, and reach Ballymacan, if possible, before it falls. We shall be home in fair time for dinner afterwards, and then for my pro- posal, which, by the word and honor — ” “ And morality ? ” Nonsense, Harry ; is a man to speak nothing but truth or Scripture in this world? — No, — which I say by the honor of a gentleman, it will be your interest to consivler and accept.” “ Very well, most accomplished. We shall see, and we shall hear, and then we sfiall determine.” A ham and turkey were substituted for the pig’s cheek and fowl, and we need n >t say that Hycy and his friend accepted of the substitution with great complacency. Dinner having been discussed, and a bottle of wine finished, the punch came in, and each, after making himself a stitf tumbler, acknowledged that he felt comfortable. Hycy, however, anxious that he should make an impression, or in other words gain his point, allowed Clinton to grow a little warm with liquor before he opened the subject to which ))e had allmled. At length, when he had reached the proper elevation, he beg?ui : — ‘•There's no man, iny dear Harry, speaks appar- ently more nonsense than I do in ordinary chat and conversation. For instance, to-day I was very suc- cessful in it; but no matter, I hate seriousness, cer- tainly, when there is no necessity for it. However, THE EMIGRAllrTS OF AHADARRA. 18 T as a set'Off to that, I pledge you my honor that no man can be more serious when it is necessary tlian myself. For instance, you let out a matter to me the other night tiiat you probably forget now. You needn’t stare — I am serious enough and honorable enough to keep as an inviolable secret everything of the kind that a man may happen to disclose in an unguarded moment.” “ Go on, Hycy, I don’t forget it — I don’t, upon my soul.” “ I allude to M’Mahon’s farm in Ahadarra.” “I don’t forget it; but you know Hycy, my boy', I didn’t mention either M’Mahon or Ahadarra.” “You certainly did not mention them exactly; but, do you think I did not know at once both ihe place and the party you allude to? My word and honor, I saw them at a glance.” “Very well, go on witii your word and honor ; — you are right, I did mean M’Mahon and Ahadarra — proceed, most accomplished, and most moral — ” “Be quiet, Harry. Well, you liave your eye upon that farm, and you say vou have a promise of it.” “ Something like it ; but the d — d landlord, Chevy- dale, is impracticable — so my uncle says — and doesn’t wish to disturb the M’Mahons, although he has been shown that it is his interest to do so — but d — n the fellow, neither he nor one of Ids family ever look to their interests — d — n the fellow, I say.” “Don’t curse or swear, most moral. Well, the lease of Ahadarra has dropped, and of Carriglass 188 THE EHIGRANTS OP AHADARRA. too ; — with Carriglass, however, we — that is you — have nothing at all to do.” “ Proceed.” ‘‘Now, I have already told you my affection for your sister, and I have not been able to get either yes or no out of you.” “ No.” ‘‘ What do you mean ? ” “That you have not been able to get yes or no out of me — proceed, most accomplished. Where do you get your brandy ? This is glorious. Well ! ” “ Now, as you have a scruple against taking the farm in any but a decent way, if I undertake to manage matters so as that Bryan MhMahon shall be obliged to give up his farm, will you support my suit with Miss Clinton ? ” “ How will you do it ? ” “ That is what you shall not know ; but the means are amply within my power. You know my cir- cumstances, and that I shall inherit all my father’s property.” “ Come ; I shall hold myself neuter — will that satisfy you ? You shall have a clear stage and no favor, which, if you be a man of spirit, is enough.” “Yes; but it is likely I may require your ad- vocacy with Uncle; and, besides, I know the ad- vantage of having an absent friend well and favorably spoken of, and all his good points brouglit out.” “ Crazy Jane and Tom Burton, to wit ; proceed, most irigenuous ! ” THE EMIGRANTS OF AH AD A RR A. 189 ‘‘ Curse tliem both ! Will you promise this — to support me so far?” “Egad, Ilyc}^ tliat’s a devilish pretty girl that attends us with the hot water, and that waited on us at dinner — eh ? ” “ Come, come. Master Harry, ware spring-guns there; keep quiet. You don’t answer ? ” “But, worthy Hycy, what if Maria should re- ject you — discard you — give you to the winds? —eh?” “Even in that case, provided you support me honestly, I shall hold myself bound to keep my engagement with you, and put M’Mahon out as a beggar.” OO “ What ! as a beggar ? ” “Ay, as a beggar ; and then no blame could pos- sibly attach to you for succeeding him, and certainly no suspicion.” “Hum! as a beggar. But the poor fellow never offended me. Confound it, he never offended me, nor any one else as far as I know. I don’t much relish that, Ilycy.” “It cannot be done though in any other way.” “I say — how do you call that girl ? — Jenny, or Peggy, or Molly, or what ?” “ I wish to heaven you could be serious, Harry. If not, I shall drop the subject altogether.” “There now — proceed, O Hyacinthus.” “ How can I proceed, when you won’t pay atten- tion to me ; or, what is more, to your own interests ? ” “ Oh ! my own interests ! — well I am alive to them.” 190 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. Is it a bargain, then ? ” “ It is a bargain, most ingenuous, most subtle, and most conscientious Ilycy ! Enable me to enter upon tlie farm of Ahadarra — to get possession of it — and calculate upon my most — let me see — wliai’s the best word — most strenuous advocacy. That’s it: there’s my hand upon it. I shall support you Hycy ; but, at the same lime, you must not hold me ac- countable for my sister’s conduct. Beyond fair and reasonable persuasion, she must be left perfectly free and uncontrolled in whatever decision she may come to.” “Theie’s my hand, then, Harry; I can ask no more.” After Clinton had gone, Hycy, felt considerably puzzled as to the manner in which he had conducted himself during the whole evening. Sometimes he im- agined he was under the influence of liquor, for he had drunk pretty freely; and again it struck him that he manifested an indifference to the proposal made to him, which he only attempted to conceal lest Hycy might perceive it. He thought, however, that he observed a seriousness in Clinton, towards the close of their conversation, which could not liave been assumed ; and as he gave himself a good deal of credit for penetration, he felt satisfied that circum- stances were in a proper train, and likely, by a little management, to work out his purposes. Hycy, having bade him good night at the hall- door, returned again to the parlor, and called Nanny Peety — ‘‘ Nanny,” said he, “which of the Hogans did you see to-day ?” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 191 ‘‘None o’ them, sir, barrin’Kate: they wor all out.” “ DM you give her the message ? ” “ Why, sir, if it can be called a message, I did.” “ AVliat did you say, now ? ” “ Why, I tould her to tell whichever o’ them she happened to see first, that St. Pether was dead.” “ And what did she say to tl)at?” “ Why, sir, she said it would be a good story for you if he was.” “ And what did she mean by that, do you think ? ” “Faix, then, I dunna — barrin’ that you’re in the black books wid him, and that you’d have a better chance of gettin’ in undher a stranger that didn’t know you.” “ Nanny,” he replied, laughing, “ you are certainly a very smart girl, and indeed a very pretty girl — a very interesting young woman, indeed, Nanny ; but you won’t listen to reason.” “To raison, sir. I’ll always listen; but not to wickedness or evil.” “ Will you liave a glass of punch ? I hope there is neither wickedness nor evil in that.” “ I’m afraid, sir, that girls like me have often found to their cost too much of both in it. Thank you, Masther Hycy, but I won’t have it ; you know I won’t.” “So you will stand in your own light, Nanny ?” “I hope not, sir; and, wanst for all, Mr. llycy, there’s no use in spakin’ to me as you do. I’m a poor humVde girl, an’ has nothing but my character to look to.” 192 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “ And is tliat all you’re afraid of, N'aniiy ? ” I in afeai’d of Almighty Gt>d, sir : an’ if you had a little fear of Him too, Mr. Ilycy, you wouldn’t spake to me as you do.” “ Why, Nanny, you’re almost a saint on our hands.” “ I’m glad to hear it, sir, for the sinners is plenty- enough.” “Very good, Nanny; well said. Here’s half-a- crown to reward your wit.” “No, no, Mr. Hycy: I’m thankful to you; but you know I won’t take it.” “ Nanny, are you aware that it was I who caused you to be taken into this family ?” “ No, sir; but I think it’s very likely you’ll be the cause of my going out of it.” “It certainly is not improbable, Nanny, I will have no self-willed, impracticable girls here.” “ You won’t have me liere long, then, unless you mend your manners, Mr. Ilycy.” “Well, well, Nanny; let us not quarrel at all events. I will be late out to-night, so that you must sit up and let me in. No, no, Naufiy ; we must not quarrel ; and if I have got fond of you, how can I help it? It’s a very natural thing, you know, to love a pretty girl.” “ But not so natural to lave her, Mr. Hycy, as you have left others before now — I needn’t name them — widout name, or fame, or hope, or happiness in this world.” “I won’t be in until late, Nanny,” he replied, coolly. “ Sit up for me. You’re a sharp one, but I THE EMIGRANTS OP AHADARRA. 193 can’t spare you yet a wliile and, having nodded to her with a reinarkahly benign aspect he went out. “Ay,” said she, alier he liad gone; “little you know, you liardened and lieartless profligate, how wtdl Tin u]) to y^'ur schemes. Little you know that I heard your bargain this evenin’ wid Clinton, and that you’re now gone to meet the Hogans and Teddy Phats upon some dark business, that can’t be good or they wouldn't be in it; an’ little you know what I know besides. Anybody the misthress plaises may sit up for you, but I won’t.” 9 194 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. CHAPTER XI. DEATH OF A VIRTUOUS MOTHER. It could not be expected that Bryan M’Mahon,on Ids way home from Felhertouge’t», would pass Gerald Cavanagli’s without calling. He had, in his interview with that gentleman, st ated the na? ure of his mother’s illness, but at the same time wiihout feeling any serious apprehension that her life was in immediate danger. On reach Cavanagh’s, he found that family overshadowed with a gloom fur which he couhl not account. Katiileen received liim gravely, and even Hanna had not lier accustomed jest. After looking around him for a little, he exclaimed — ‘’Wlnit is the matther? Is an\ thing wrong? You all luok as if you were in sorrow.” Hanna approached him and said, whilst her eyes filled with tears — ‘’We are in sorrow, Bryan; for we are goin’, we doubt, to lose a friend that we all love — as every’ one diil that knevv her.” “ Hanna, darling,” sai«l Kathleen, “ This won’t do. Poor girl! j’ou are likely to make bad w^orse; and besiing ; “ don’t say so yet : who knows but God will spare your life, an’ that you may be many years wdlh us still ; they’re all alarmed too much, I liope ; but it’s no wondher we should, mother dear, w hen there’s any appearance at all of danger about 2/GW.” ‘‘ Well, whether or not, Bryan, the advice I’m goin’ to give you is never out o’ saison. Live al- ways ‘Aith the fear of God in your heart; do noth- ing that you think will displease Him ; love your fellow-creatures — serve them and relieve their wants an’ distresses, as far as you’re able; be like your own father — kind and good to all about you, not ne- glectin’ your religious duties. Do this, Bryan, an’ thin when the hour o’ death comes, you’ll feel a THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADaRJ.A. 201 comfort an’ a happiness in your heart that neither the world nor anything in it can give you. You’ll feel tlie peace of God there, an’ you will die happy —happy.” Her spirit, animated by the purity and religious truth ol this simple but beautiful morality, kindled into pious fervor as she proceeded, so much so in- deed, that on turning her eyes towards heaven, whilst she uttered the last words, they sparkled with the mild and serene ligiit of that simple but uncon- scious entiiusiasm on behalf of all goodness which liad characterized her whole life, and which indeed is a living principle among thousands of her humble countrywomen. “ This, dear Bryan, is the adviCe I gave to them all ; it an’ my love is the only legacy I have to lave them. An’ my darlin’ Dora, Bryan — oh, if you be kind and tend her to any one o’ them beyant another, be so to her. My darlin’ Dora ! Oh ! her heart’s all affection, an’ kindness, an’ generosity. But in- deed, as I said, Biyan, tlie task must fall to you, to strengthen and console every one o’ them. Ay ! — an’ you must begin now. You wor ever, ever, a good son ; an’ may God keep you in the right faith, an’ may my blessin’ an’ His be wid you for ever ! Amin.” There was a solemn and sustaining spirit in her words which strcngtliened Bryan, who, besides, felt anxious to accomplisii to the utmost extent the affectionate purpose which had caused her to send for liim. “It’s a hard task, mother darlin’,” he replied; 202 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “ but I’ll endeavor, with God’s help, to let them see that I haven’t bet*n your son for nothing; but you don’t know, mother, that Katlilecn’s here, an’ Hanna. They wish to see you, an’ to get your blessin’.” “Bring them in,” she replied, “ an’ let Dora come wid them, an’ stay yourself, Bryan, becaise Tni but weak, an’ I don’t wish that they should stay too long. God sees it’s not for want ot love for the other girls that I don’t bid you bring them in, but that I don’t wnsh to sec them sufferin’ too much sor- row; but my darlin’ Dora will expect to be where Kathleen is, an’ my ovvn eyes likes to look upon her, an’ upon Kathleefi, too, Bryan, for I feel my heart bound to her as if she was one of ourselves, as I hope she will be.” “ Oh, bless her ! bless her! mother,” he said, with difficulty, “ an’ tell her them words — say them to herself. I'll 2:0 now and bring them in.’^ He paused, however, for a minute or two, in order to compose his voice and fea ures, that he might not seem to set them an example of weakness, after which he left the apartment with an appearance of greater composure than he really fell. In a few minutes the four returned : Bryan, with Kathleen’s hand locked in his, and Ilanna, with her arm affectionately wreathed about Dora’s neck, as if the good-hearted girl felt anxious to cherish and comfort her imder the lieavy calamity to wdnch she was about to be exposed, for Dora wa^pt bitterly. ]\lrs. M’Mahon signed to Ilanna to approach, \yho, with her characteristic ardor of feeling, now burst into tears herself, and stooping down kissed her THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 203 and wept aloud, wliilst Dora’s grief also burst out afresh. The sick woman looked at Bryan, as if to solicit liis interference, and the look was ifii mediately un- derstood by Kathleen as well as by himself. “This is very wrong of you, Hanna,” said her sister; “out of affection and pity to them, you ought to endeavor to act otherwise. They have enough, an’ too much, to feel, without your setting them tliis example; and, Dora dear, I tljought you had more courage than you l ave. All this is only grieving and disturbing your mother; an’ I ho|)e that, for lier sake, you’ll both avoid it. I know it’s hard to do so, but it’s the diffic\ilty and the trial that calls upon us to have strength, otherwise what are we better llian them that we’d condemn or think little of for their weakness.” The truth and moral force of the words, and the firmness of manner that marked Kathleen as she spoke, were immediately successfuL The grief of the two girls was at once husiied ; and, after a slight pause, Mrs. M’Mahon called Kalh een to Iier. “ Dear Kathleen,” she said, “I did hope to see the day when you'd be one of my own family, but it’s not the will of God, it appears, that I should; how- ev<*r, may His will be done! I hope still tliat day will come, an’ that your friends won’t have any longer an objection to your man iage wid Bryan. I am his mother, an’ no one has abetter right to knovv Ids heart an’ his temper, an’ I can say, upon my dyiu’ bed, that a better heart an’ a better temper never was in man. I believe, Kathh en, it was never known 204 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHAOARRA. that a good son ever made a bad husband. How- ever, if it’s God’s will to bring you together, He wdll, and if it isn’t, you must only bear it patiently.” Bryan was silent, but his eye, from time to time, turned with a long glance of love and sorrow upon Kathleen, whose complexion became pale and red by turns. At length Dora, after her mother had concluded, went over to Kathleen, and putting her arms around her neck, exclaimed, “ Oh ! mother dear, soraethifig tells me that Kathleen will be mysisther yet, an’ if you d ask her to promise — ” Kathleen looked down upon the beautiful and ex- pressive features of the affectionate girl, and gently raising her hand she placed it upon Dora’s lips, in order to prevent the completion of the sentence. On doiiig so she received a sorrowful glance of deep and imploring entreaty from Bryan, which she re- turned with another that seemed to reprove him for doubling her affection, or supposing that such a pro- mise was even necessary. ‘‘Ko, Dora dear,” she said, “ I could make no promise without the know- ledge of my father and mother, or contrary to their wdshes; but did you think, darling, that such a thing w^as necessary ? ” She kissed the sweet girl as she spoke, and Dora felt a tear on her cheek that was not her own. Mrs. M’Mahon had been looking with a kind of mournful admiration upon Kathleen during this lit- tle incident, and then proceeded. “She suys what is right and true; and it would be wrong, my poor child, to ask her to give sich a promise. Bryan, thry an’ be worthy of that girl — oh, do ! an’ if you THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 205 ever get lier, you’ll have raison to thank God for one of the best gills He ever gave to man. Ilaiina^come here — come to me — let me put my liand upon your head. May my blessin’ and God’s blessin’ rest upon you for ever more. There now, be stout, acushla machive.” Ilaiina kissed lier again, but her grief was silent ; and Dv>ra, fearing she might not be able to restrain it, took lier away. “Nuw,” proceeded the dying woman, ‘‘ come to me, you Kuihleen, my daughter — sure you’re the daughter of my heart, as it is. Kneel down and stay with tne awhile. Wliy dues my Iteart warm to yoa as it never did to any one out o’ my own family ? Why do 1 love you as if you were my own child? Because I hope you will be so. Kiss me, aslhore machree.” Kathleen kissed her, and for a few moments Mrs. M’Mahon felt a shower of warm tears upon her face, accompanied by a gentle and caressing pressure, that seemed to corroborate and reiurn the hope she had just expressed. Kathleen hastily wiped away her tears, however, and once more resuming her firmness, awaited the expected blessing. “Now, Kathleen dear, for fear any one might say that at my dyin’ hour, I endeavored to take any unfair advantage of your feelins for my son, listen to me—love him as you may, and as I know you do.” ‘‘ Why should I deny it?” said Kathleen, “1 do love him.” “ I know, daiTin’, you do, but for all that, go not agin the will and wishes of your parents and friends; that’s my last advice to you.” 206 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. She then placed her hand upon her head, and in words breathing of piety and affection, she invoked many a blessitig upon her, and upon any that was dear to her in life, after whicli both Bryan and Kathleen left her to the rest which she now required so much. The last liour had been an interval from pain with Mrs. M’Mahon. In the course of the day both the priest and the doctor arrived, and she appeared sornewljat better. The doctor, however, prepared tliein for the worst, and in confirmation of his opin- ion, the spasms returned with dreadful violence, and in the lapse of two hours after his visit, this pious and virtuous woman, after suffering unexampled agony with a patience and forti ude that could not be surpassed, expired in the midst of her afflicted family. It often happens in domestic life, that in cases where long and undisturbed affection is for the first time deprived of its object by death, there super- venes upon the sorrow of many, a feeling of awful sympathy willi that individual whose love for the object has been the greatest, and whose loss is of course the most irreparable. So was it with the M’Mahons. Thomas JM’Mahon himself could not bear to witness the sufferings of his wife, nor to hear her moans. lie accordingly left the house, and Avalked about the garden and farm-yard, in a state little short of actual distraction. When the last scene was over, and her actual sufferings closed for ever, the outrage of grief among his children be- came almost hushed from a dread of witnessing the THE EMIGRANTS OF AHAHARRA. 207 sufferings of their father ; and for the time a great portion of their own sorrow was merged in wliat they ielt for liim. Nor was this feeling confined to themselves. His neighbors and acquaintances, on liearing of Mrs. M’Mahoii’s death, almost all ex- claimed : — “ Oh, what will become of him ? they are nothing an’ will forget her soon, as is natural, well as they loved her; but poor Tom, oh ! what on earth will become of him ? ” Every eye, however, now turned toward Bryan, who was the only one of the family possessed of courage enough to undertake the task of breaking the heart-rendino: intelligence to their bereaved father. “ It must be done,” he said, ‘‘ and the sooner it’s done the better; what would I give to have my darlin’ Kathleen here! Her eye and her advice would give me the strength that I stand so much in need of. My God, how will I meet him, or break the sorrowful tidings to him at all ! Tiie Lord supp‘u*t me ! ” “Ah, but Bryan,” said they, “ you know he looks up to whatever you say, and how much he is ad- vised by you, if there happens to be a doubt about anything. Except her that’s gone, there was no one — ” Bryan raised his hand wdth an expression of reso- lution and something like despair, in order as well as he could to intimate to them, that he wished to hear no allusion made to her whom they had lost, or that he must become incapacitated to perform the 208 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. task lie had to encounter, and taking his hat he pro- ceeded to find his father, whom he met behind the garden. It may be observed of deep grief, that wlienever it is excited by the loss of what is good and virtuous, it is never a solitary passion, we mean wdthiii the circle of domestic life. So far from that, there is not a kindred afift ciion under the influence of a virtuous heart, that is not stimulated and strengthened by its emotions. How o^ten for instance have two members of the same family rushed into each other's arms, when struck by a common sense of the loss of some individual that was dear to both, because it was felt that the very fact of loving the same object Lad now made them dear to each other. The father, on seeing Bryan approach, stood for a few moments and looked at him eagerly ; he then approached him with a hasty and unsettled step, and said, “ Bryan, Bryan, I see it in your face, she lias left us, she has left us, she has left us all, an’ she has left me ; an’ how am I to live wdthout kerf answer me that; an’ then give me consolation if you can.” He threw himself on his son’s neck, an 1 by a melancholy ingenuity attempted to seduce him as it were from the firmness which he appeared to pre- serve in the discharge of this sorrowful task, with a hope that he might countenance him in the excess of his grief— “ Oh,” he added, “ have lost her, Bryan — you and I, the two that she — that she — Your word was everything to her, a law to her; and she w^as so proud out of you — an’ her eye w^ould rest upon you smilin’, as much as to say — there’s my THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 209 son, haven’t I a riglit to feel proud of him, for he has never once vexed his mother’s heart? nayther did you, Bryan, nayther did you, hut now who will praise you as she did? who will boast of you beliind your back, for she seldom did it to your face ; and now that smile of love and kindness will never be on lier blessed lips more. Sure you won’t blame me^ Bryan — oli, sure above all men livin’, you won’t blame me for feeliii’ her loss as I do.” The associations excited by the language of his father, were such as Bryan was by no means pre- pared to meet. Still he concentrated all his moral power and resolution in order to accomplish the task he had undertaken, which, indeed, was not so much to announce his mother’s death, as to support his father under it. After a violent effort, he at length said : — “Are you sorry, father, because God has taken my mother to llimsell? Would you wisli to liave her here, in pain and suffering ? Do you grudge her Iieaven ? Father, you were always a brave and strong, fearless man, but what are you now ? Is tlds the example you are settiii’ to us, who ought to look up to you for support? Don’t you k!iovv my mother’s in heaven? Wliy, one would iliink you’re sorry for it? Come, come, father, set your cliildie’ ail example now when they want it, that they eaii look up to — be a man, and dont forget tliat sht^’s in God's Glory. Come in now, and comfort the rest.” “ Ay, but when I think of what she was, Bryan; of wiiat she was to me, Bryan, from the first day 210 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. I ever called her my wife, ay, and before it, wlien she could get better matches, when slie stniggleil, and waited, and fought for me, against all opposi- tion, till her father au’ mother saw her heart was fixed upon me; houM your tongue, Bryan, I 11 have no one to stop my grief for her, where is she? wliere’s my wife, I tell you ? where’s Bridget M'Ma- hon ? — Brkiget, wliere are you? have you left me, gone from me, an’ must I live here widout y u? must I lise in the mornin’, and neither see y<>u nor liear you? or must I live here by myself an’ never have your opinion nor advice to ask upon anything as I used to do — Bridget M’Mahon, why did you leave me ? where are you from me ? ” “ Here’s Dora,” said a sweet but broken voice ; ‘Miere’s Dora M’Malion — your own Dora, too — and that you love bekase I was like Aer. Oh, come with me, father, darlin’. For her sake, compose yourself and come with me. Oh, what are to feel ! wasn’t she our mother? Wasn’t she ? — wasn’t she ? What am I savin’? Ay, but, now — we have no mother, now ! ” M’Mahon still leaned upon his son’s neck, but on hearing his favorite daughter’s voice, he put his arm round to where she stood, and clasping her in, brought her close to him and Bryan, so that tliG three individuals formed one sorrowing group to- gether. “ Father,” repeated Dora, ‘‘come with me for my mother’s sake.” He started. “ What’s that you say, Dora ? For your mother’s sake? I will, darlin’ — for sake, THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 211 I will. Ay, that’s the way to manage me — for her sake. Oh, what wouldn’t 1 do for her sake ? Como, then, God bless you, dailin’, for puttin’ that into my liead. You may make me do aiiytliing, now, Dora, jewel — it you jist ax it for In r sake. Oh, my God ! an’ is it come to tliis ? An’ am I talkin’ til is way ? — but — well, for her sake, darliu’ — for her sake. Come, I’ll go in — but — but — oh, Bryan, how can I? ” “You know father,” replied Bryan, who now lield his arm, “ we must all die, and it w'ill be well for us if we can die as she died. Didn't Father Peter say that if ever the light of heaven was in a human heart, it was in hers ? ” “ Ay, but when I go in an’ look upon her, an’ call Bridget, she won’t answer me.” “ Father dear, you are takin’ it too much to heart.” “Well, it’ll be the first time she ever refused to answer me — the first time that ever her lips will be silent when I spake to her.” “ But, father,” said the sweet girl at his side, “ think of me. Sure I’ll be your Dora more tlian ever,^ now. You know what you promised me this minute. Oh, for her sake, and for God’s sake, then, don’t take it so much to heart. It was my grandfather sent me to you, an’ he says he wants to see you, an’ to spake to you.” “Oil!” he ex(daimed, “My poor father, an’ he won’t be long afther her. But this is the way wid all, Bryan— the way o’ the world itself. We must go. I didn’t care, now, how soon I followed her. Oh, no, no.” 212 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. Don’t say so, father; tliiok of the family you " have; think of how you love them, and how they love you. father dear. Don’t give way so much to this sorrow. I kjiow it’s hard to bid you not to do it; but \’ou know we rnu^t strive to overcome our- selves. I hope there’s hippy days and yeirs before us still. Wedl have our leases soon, you know, an’ then we’ll feel firm and comfortable: an’ you know you’ll be — we’ll all be near where she sleeps.” “ Where she sleeps. Well, th-re’s comfort in that, Bryan — there’s comfort in that.” The old man, thougii very feeble, on seeing him approach, rose up and met him. “Tom,” said he, “ be a man, and don’t shame my white hairs nor your own. I lost your mother, an’ I was as fond of her, an’ liad as good a right, too, as ever you were of her that’s now an angel in lieaven; but if I lost lier, I bore it as a man ought. I never yet bid you do a thing that you didn’t do, but I now bid you stop cryin’, an’ don’t fly in the face o’ God as you’re doin’. You respect my white hairs, an’ God will help you as he has done ! ” *■ The venerable appearance of the old man, the melancholy but tremtilous earnestness with wliich he spoke, and the placid spirit of submission which touched his whole bearing with the light of an in- ward piety that no age could dim or overshadow, all combined to work a salutary influence upon M'Malion. lie evidently made a great effort at composure, nor wiihout success. Mis grief became calm; he paid attention to other matters, and by THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 213 the aid of Bryan, and from an anxiety lest he should disturb or offend his father by any further excess of sorrow, he was enabled to preserve a greater degree of composure than might have been ex- pected. 214 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. CHAPTER Xir. ' HYCY CONCERTS A PLOT AND IS URGED TO MARRY. The Hogans, wlio seldom missed a Wake, Dance, Cockfight, or any other place of amusement or tumult, were not present, we need scarcely assure our readers, at tlie wakehouse of Mrs. M’Alahon. On tliat night they and Teddy Phats were all sitting in their usual domicile, the kilti, already mentioned, expecting Hycy, when the following brief dialogue took place, previous to his appearance. ‘‘ What keeps this lad, Hycy?” said Bat; “an’ a complate lad is in his coat, when he has it on him. Throth I have my doubts whether this same gentle- man is to be depended on.” “ Gentleman, indeed,” exclaimed Philip, “noth- ing short of that will sarve liim, shure. To be de- pinded on. Bat! Why, thin, it’s more than P»1 like to say. Howanever, he's as far in, an’ farther than we are.” “There’s no use in our quarrelin’ wid him,” said Phals, in his natural manner. “ If he’s in our p >wer, we’re in his; an’ you know he could soon make the counthry too hot to hold us. Along wid all, too, he’s as revengeful as the dioule himself, if not a thrifle more so.” “If he an’ Kathleen gets sothered together,” said Philip, “’twould be a good look up for uz, at any rate.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 216 Kate Hogan was the only female present, the truth beir^g that Pliilip and Ned were both widowers, owing, it was generally btdieved, to the brutal treat- ment wliich their unrortunate wives received at their hands. “Don’t quarrel wid liim,” said slie, “ if you can, ^ at any rate, till we get him more in our power, an’ . that he’ll be soon, maybe. If we fall out wid hiai, we’d have to lave the place, an’ maybe to go farther tlian we intend, too. Wherever we went over the ])rovince, this you know was our headquarters. , Here’s where all belongin’ to us — I mane that ever died a natural death, or drew their last breath in • the counthry — rests, an’ I’d not like to go far from it.” “Let w'hat will liappen,” said Philip, with an . oath, “ I’d lose my right arm before Bryan M’Mahon put?< a ring on Kathleen.” “I can tell you that Hycy has no notion of marry- in’ her, thin,” said Kate. “ How do you know that?” asked her husband. “ I’ve a little bird that tells me,” she replied. “Gerald Cavanagh an’ his wife doesn’t think so’’ said Pliilij). “ They and Jemmy Burke has the match nearly made.” “ They may make the match,” said Kate, “but it’s • more than they’ll be able to do to make the marriage. ITycy’s at greater game, I tell you; but wdietherjm is or not, I tell you again that Bryan M’Mahon will have her in spite of all opposition.” “ May be not,” said Phats ; “Hycy will take care “ o’ that; he has him set; jfee’ll work him a charm; 216 THE EMIGRANTS OE AHADARRA. »■ he’ll take care that Bryan won’t be long in a lit way to offer himself as a inateJi for her.” “More power to him in that,” said Piiilip ; “if he makes a beggarman of him he may depend on us to the back-bone,” “Have no hand in injurin’ Bryan M’Mahon,” said Kate. “Keep him from marryin’ Kathleen if you like, or if you can ; but, if you’re wise, don’t injure the boy.” “Why so?” asked Philip. “ That’s nothing to you,” she replied ; “ for a rai- son I have; and mark me, I warn you not to do so or it’ll be worse for you.” “ Why, who are we afraid of, barrin’ Ilycy him- self?” * “ It’s no matther ; there’s them livin’ could make you afeard, an’ maybe will, too, if you injure that boy.” “Pd just knock him on the head,” replied the fero- cious ruffian, “ as soon as I would a ma i dog.” “ Whisht,” said Phats, “ here’s Hycy ; don’t you hear his foot ? ” Hycy entered in a few moments afterwards, and, after the usual greetings, sat down by the lire. “De night’s could,” said Phats, resuming his brogue ; “ but here,” he added, pulling out a botile of whiskey, “ is something to warm de blood in us. Will you thry it, Meeisther Hycy ?” “ By-and-by— not now ; but help yourselves.” “When did you see Miss Kathleen, Masther Hycy,” asked Kate. “You mean Miss Kathleen the Proud?” here- THE EMiaRANTS OF AHADARRA. . 217 plied — “ my Lady Dignity— I have a crow to pluck with her.^'^ “ What crow have you to pluck wid her?^’ asked Kate fiercely. “You’ll pluck no crow wud or, if you do, Vll find a bag to hould the fedhers — mind that.” “ No, no,” said Philip ; “whatever’s to be done, she must come to no harm.” “ Why, the crow I have to pluck with her, Mrs. Ilogaii, is— let me see — why — to — to marry her — to bind lier in the bands of holy wedlock; and you know, wiien I do, Pm to give you all a house and place free gratis for nothing during your lives — that’s what I pledge myself to do, and not a rope to hang yourselves, worthy gentlemen, as Finigan would say. 1 pass over the fact,” he proceeded, laughing, “ of the peciilar intimacy which, on a certain occasion, w’as established between Jemmy the gentleman’s old oak drawers and your wrenching-irons ; how- ever, that is not the matter at present, and I am somewhat in a hurry.” “Youlieard,” said Bat, “that Bryan M’Mahoa has lost his mother ? ” “I did,” said the other; “poor orphan lad, I pity him.” “We know you do,” said Bat, with a vindictive but approving sneer. “I assure you,” continued Hycy, “I wish the young man well.” “ Durin’ der lives,” repeated Phats, who had evi- dently been pondering over Hycy’s promised gift to the Hogans ; — “ throth ” he observed with a grin, 10 218 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. dere may be something under dat too. Ay ! an’ she wishes Bryan M’Mahon well,” he exclaimed, raising his red eyebrows. “ Shiss,” replied Ilycy, mimicking him, “ her does.” “ But you must have de still-house nowhere but in Ahadarra for alls dat.” “For alls dats,” replied the other. “Dat will do den,” said Phats, composedly. “ Enough of this,” said Ilycy. “ Now, Phats, have you examined and pitched upon the place? ” “Well, then,” replied Phats, speaking in his natu- ral manner, “ I have ; an’ a betther spot isn’t in Europe than there is undher the l)ip of Cullamore. But do you know how Roger Cooke sarved Adam Blakely of Glencuil?” “ Perfectly well,” replied Hycy, “ he ruined him.” “ But we don’t know it,” said Ned ; “ how was it, Teddy?” “ Why he set up a still on his property — an’ you know Adam owns the whole townland, jist as Bryan M’Mahon does Ahadarra — an’ afther three or four runnins he gets a bloody scoundrel to inform upon Adam, as if it was him an’ not himself that had the still. Clinton the guager — may the devil break his neck at any rate ! — an’ the red-coats — came and found all right. Still, Head, and Worm.” “Well,” said Bat, “ an’ how did that ruin him?” “Why, by the present law,” returned Piiats, “ it’s the townland that must pay the fine. Poor Adam wasn’t to say very rich ; he had to pay the fine, however, and now he’s a beggar — root an’ branch. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 219 cTiick an’ child out of it. Do you undherstand tliat, Mistlier Ilycy ? ” No,” rt*j>lied ITycy, “you're mistaken; I have re- course to the still, because I want cash, lloiu^st Jriinuy the geulleinan has taken i\\M sthacl won’t fork out any longer, so that I must either ran a east or two every now an’ then, or turn clodhopper like himself. So much I say for your information, ]Mr. Piiats. In the mean lime let us see whai’s to be done. Here, Ned, is a five-pound no’e to buy barley ; keep a strict account of this ; for I do assure you that 1 am not a person to be ])layed on. Tliere’s another thirty-shilling note — or stay, Til make it two ]munds — to enable you to box up the still house and remove the vessels and things i’roni Glendearg. Have you all ready, Philip ? ” he said, addressing liimself to IL»gan. “Ail,” replied Philip; “ sicli a Still, Head, and Worm, you’d not find in Europe — ready to be set to work at a mir.ute’s notice.” “When,” said Hycy, rising, “will it be necessary that I shouhl see you again ?” “ We’ll let you know,” replied Phats, “ when we want you. Kate here can drop in, as il by accident, an’ give the hrnid icordy “Well, then, good-night — stay, give me a glass of v/hislvy beft)re I go; and, before I do go, listen. You know the confidence I place in every one of you cn this occasion?” “ We do,” replied Philip; “no doubt of it.” “Listen, I say. I swear by all that a man can swear by, that if a soul of you ever breathes — 220 THE EMIGRANTS OJ AHAPARRiL I hope, by the way, that these young savages are all asleep — ” ‘•As sound as a top,” said Bat, “ every one o’ them.” “ Well, if a single one of you ever breathes my name or menlions me to a human being as in any way connected, directly or indirectly, with the business in which we are engaged. I’ll nuke the country too hot to hold you — and you need no ghost to I el I you how easily I could dispose of you if it went to that.” Kale, when he had repeated these words, gave liini a peculiar glance, which was accompanied by a short abrupt laugh that seemed to have something derisive in it, “Is there anything to be laughed at in what I am saying, most amiable Mrs. Hogan?” he asked. Kate gave either a feigned or a real start as he spoke. “Laughed at:” she exclaimed, as if surprised; “throih I wasn’t thinkin’ of you at all, Mr. llycy. What vvor you sayin’?” “That if my name ever happens to be mentioned in connection with this busiin ss, I’ll send the whvde kit of you — h immers, budgets, and soihering-irons — to hell ur Connauglit ; so think of this now, and gO<‘d-nigllt.” “Ttiere goes as d d a vagihone,” said Ked, “ as ever stretched liemp ; and only that it's our own Imsiness to make the most use we can out of him, I didn’t care the devil had hi«n, for I don't like a bone in his skin.” THE EMTQRAKTS OP AHADARRA. 221 Why,” saul Philip, “I sec what’s lice’s at now. Sure enoiigli lie’ll put the copin’ stone on Bryan M’- Malion at any rate — tliat, an’ if we can get the house and jdace out of him — an’ what need we care ? ” “Send ns to hell or Connaught,” said Kate; “ well, tliat’s not had — ^ha ! ha I ha ! ” “What are you neigherin’ at?” said her hus- band ; “ and what set you a-cacklin’ to his face a wliile ago ?” She shook her head carelessly. “ Ko matther,” she replied, “ for a raison I had.” “Would you let me know your raison, if you plaise?” “If I plaise — ay, you did well to put that in, for I don’t plaise to let you know any more about it. I laughed becaise I liked to laugh ; an’ I hope one may do that ’iihout being brought over the coals about it. Go to bed, an’ grve me another glass o’ wlii'ky, Ted — it always makes me sleep.” Ted had been for some minutes evidently rumi- nating. “ He is a good boy,” said he ; “ but at any rate our hands is in the lion’s mouth, an’ it’s not our policy to vex him.” Hycy, on liis way home, felt himself in better spi- rits than lie had been in for some time. The ar- rangement with young Clinton gave him considera- ble satisfaction, and he now resolved to lose as little time as possible in executing his own part of the contract. Clinton liimself, who was a thoughtless young fellow, fond of pleasure, and with no great 222 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADaRRA. relish for business, was guided almost in everj^thing by his knowing old uncle the gauger, on whom lie and his sister depended, and who looked upon him as unfit for any kind of employment unh ss the management of a cheap farm, such as would neces- sarily draw his attenlion fromliahifs of idleness and expense to those of applicaiion and industry. Being aware, from common report, that McMahon’s exten- sive and improvable holding in Ahadarra was out of lease, he immediately set his heart upon it, but knew not exactly in what manner to accom|)lish his designs, in securing it if he could, without exposing liimself to suspicion and a good deal of obloquy be- sides. Old Clinton was one of those sheer and har- dened sinners who, without either scruple or re- morse, yet think it worth while to keep as good terms with the world as they can, whilst at the same time they laugh at and despise in iheir liearts all that is worthy of honor and respect in it. Ills nephew, however, had some positive good, and not a little of that light an 1 reckless profligacy which is often mistaken for heart and spirit, llycy and lie, though not very long acquainted, were, at the present period of our narrative, on very intimate terms. They had, it is true, a good many propensi- ties in common, and tliese were what constituted the bond between them. They w^ere companions but not friends ; and Clinton saw many things in Ilycy wdiich di-^gusted him exceedingly, and scarce- ly anytliing more than the contemptuous manner in which he spoke of and treated his parents. He liked his society, because he was lively and without THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 223 any of that high and honorable moral feeling which is often troublesome to a companion who, like Clin- ton, was not possessed of much scruple while engag- ed in the pursuit of pleasures. On this account, therefore, we say that he relished his society but could neither respect nor esteem him. On the following morning at breakfast, his uncle asked him where he had dified the day before. “With llycy Burke, sir,” replied the nephew. “ Yes; that is honest Jemmy’s son — a very great man in his own conceit, Harry. You seem to like him very much.” Harry felt a good deal puzzled as to the nature of his reply. He knew very well that his uncle did not relish Hycy, and he felt that he could not exactly state his opinion of him without bringing in ques- tion his own penetration atid good taste in keeping his society. Then, with respect to his sister, al- thougii he had no earthly intention of seeing her the wife of sueh a person, still he resolved to be able to say to Hycy that he had not broken his word, a consideraiion which would not have bound Hycy one moment under the same circumstan- ces. “Hv’s a very pleasant young fellow, sir,” replied the otlier, “ and has been exceedingly civil and at- tentive to me.” “ Ay !— do you like him — do you esteem him, I mean ?” “ I dare say I will, sir, when I come to know him better.” “ Which is as much as to say that at present you 224 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. do not. So I thought. You have a portion of good sense about yon, but in a thousand things yoii’ie a jackass, Harry,” “ Thank you, sir,” replied his nepliew, laughing heartily; “thank you for the comj)liiuent. I am your nephew, you know.” “ You have a parcel of d d scruples, I say, that are ridiculous. What the devil need a man care about in this world but appearances ? Mind your own interests, keep up a])pearances, and you have done your duty.” “ But I should like to do a little more than keep up appearances,” replied his nephew. “I know you would,” said his uncle, “and it is for that especial reason that I say you’re carrying the ears. I’m now a longtime in the world, Maslher Harry — sixty-two years — although I don’t look it, nor anything like it, and in the course of that time — or, at all events, ever since I was able to form my own opinions, I never met a man that wasn’t a rogue in something, with the exception of — h*t me see — one — two — three — four — five — I’m not able to make out the half-dozen.” “And who were the five honorable exceptions?” asked his niece, smiling. “They were the five fools of the parish, Maria — and yet I am wrong, still — for Bob M*Cann was as thievish as the very devil whenever he had an oppor- tunity. And now, do you know the conclusion I come to from all this? ” “ I suppose,” said his niece, “ that no man’s honest but a fool.” '’THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 226 “ Thank you, Maria. Well done — you’ve liit it. By the way, it set ms M’Mahon's wife, of Curriglass, is dead.-’ “ Is she ? ” said Harry ; “ that is a respectable family, father, by all accounts.” “ Why, lliey neither rob nor steal, I believe,” re- plied his uncle. “ Tliey are like most people, I sup- pose, honest in the eye of the law — honest because the laws keep them so.” “I did not tliiiik your opinion of the world was so bad, uncle,” said Maria; “ I hope it is not so bad as you say it is.” “ All I can say, then,” replied the old Cynic, “that if you wait till you find an honest man for your husband, you’ll die an old maid.” “Well, but excuse me, uncle, is that safe doctrine to lay down before your nephew, or myself?” “IWh, as to you, J’ou silly girl, what h^e you to do witli it? We’re talkin’ about men, now — about the world, I say, and life in general.” “ And don’t you wish Harry to be honest ?” “Yes, where it is his interest; and ditto to rogue- ry, where it can be done safely.” “ I know you don’t f el what you say, uncle,” she observed, “ nor believe it either.” “ Not he, Maria,” said her brother, awakening out of a reverie ; “ but, uncle, as to Hycy Burke— I don’t ' — hem.” “You don’t what?” asked the other, rising and staring at him. His nephew looked at bis sister, and w^as silent. “ You don’t what, man ? — always speak out. Here, 226 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. help me on with this coat, Fethertorige and I are taking a ride up to-morrow as far as Aliadarra.” “That’s a man I don’t like,” said the nephew. “ He’s too soft and too sweet, and speaks too low to be honest,” “ Honest, you blockhead ! Who says he’s honest ?” replied his uncle. “He’s as good a thing, however^ an excellent man of the world that looks to the main point, and — keeps up appearances. Take care . of yourselves;” and with these wonls, accompanied with a shrewd, knavish nod that was peculiar to him, in giving which with expression he w^as a perfect adept, he left them. When he was gone, the brother and his sister look- ed at eacli other, and the latter said, “ Can it be pos- sible, Harry, that my uncle is serious in all he says on this subject ? ” Her brother, who paid more regard to the princi- ples of his sister than her uncle did, felt great reluc- tance in answering her in the affirmative, so much so, indeed, that he resolved to stretch a little for the Bake of common decency. “ Not at all, Maria; no man relishes honesty more than he does. He only speaks in this fashion because lie thinks that honest men are scarce, and so they are. But, by the- way, talking about Ilycy Burke, Maria, how do you like him?” “ I can’t say I admire him,” she replied, “but you know I have had very slight opportunities of form- ing any opinion.” “From what you have seen of him, what do you think ? ” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 227 ‘^Let me eee,” she replied, pausing ; “why, that he’ll meet very few who will think so highly of him as he does liimself.” “He thinks very higlily of you, then.” “ How do you know that ? ” she asked somew^hat quickly. “Faith, Maria, from UiG best authority — because he hiinselt t Id me so.” “ So, then, I have had the honor of furnishing you with a topic ot conversation? ” “ UnquesUonably, and you may prepare yourself for a surprise. He’s attached to you.” “ 1 think not,” she replied calmly. “ Why so ? ” he asked. “ Because, if you wi^h to know the truth, I do not think him capable of attachment to any one but him- self.” “Faith, a very good reason, Maria; but, seriously, if he should introduce the subject^ I trust, at all events, that you will treat him with respect.” “ I shall certainly respect myself, Harry. He need not fear that I shall read liim one of my uncle’s lec- tures upon life and honesty.” “ I have promised not to be his enemy in the mat- ter, and I shall keep my word.” “ So you may, Harry, with perfect safet}\ I am much <»bligrd to him for his good opinion; but” — she paust'd. “ What do you stop at., Maria ? ” “I was only about to add,” she replied, “that I wish it was mutual.” 228 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. Yon wish it,” he exclaimed. “What do you mean by tliat, Maria? ” She laughed. “ Don’t you know it is only a form of speech ? a polite way of saying that he does not rank high in my esteem? ” “Well, well,” he replied, “settle that matter be- tween you ; perhaps tke devil is not so black as he’s painted.” “A very unhappy Illustration,” said his sister, “whatever has put it into your head.” “Faith, and I don’t know what put it there. However, all I can say in tlie matter I liave already said. I am not, nor shall I be, his enemy. I’ll trou- ble you, as you’re near it, to touch the bell till George gets the horse. I am going up to his fath- er’s, now. Shall I tell him than John Wabace is discarded ; that he will be received with smiles, and that—” “How can you be so foolish, Harry ?” “ Well, good-bye, at any rate. You are perfectly capable of deciding for yourself, Maria.” “I trust so,” she replied. “There’s George with your horse now.” “ It’s a blue look-up. Master Hycy,” said CliiUon to himself as he took his way to Burke’s. “I think you have but little chance in that quarter, oh, most accomplished Hycy, and indeed T am not a whit sor- ry ; but should be very much so were it otherwise.” It is singular enough that whilst Clinton was in- troducing the subject of lly cy’s attachment to *his sister, that worthy young gentleman was sustaining a much more serious and vehement onset upon a THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 229 similar subject at home. Gerald Cavanagh and Ids wife having once got the notion of a marriage be* tween Kathleen and Ilycy into tludr hea»ls, were de- termined not to rest umil that desirable c >n summa- tion should be brought about. In accordance with tins resolution, we must assure our readers that Ger- ald never omitted any opportunity of introducing the matter to Jemmy Burke, who, as he liked the Gavanaghs, and especially Kathleen herself, who, indeed, was a general favorite, began to think that, altliough in point of circumstances she was by no means a match for him, Ilycy might do still worse. It is true, his wife was outrageous at the bare men- tion of it; but Jemmy, along witli a good deal of blunt sarcasm, had a resobuion of his own, and not unfrequently look a kind of good-natured and shrewd delight in opposing lier wishes whenever lie found them to be unreasonable. For several montlis past he could not put his foot out of the door that he was not haunted by honest Gerald Cavanagh, who liad only one idea constantly before him, that of rais- ing his daughter to the rank and state in which he knew, or at least calculated that Ilycy Burke would keep her. Go where he might, honest Jemmy was attended by honest Gerald, like \\\9> fetch. At mass, at market, in every fair throughout the country was Cavanagh sure to bring up the sul»ject of the mar- riage ; and what was the best of it, he and his neighbor draidc each otherV healths so repeatedly on tlie head of it, that they often separated in a state that might be termed anything but sober. Nay, what is more, it was a fact that they had more than 280 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. once or twice absolutely arranged tbe whole matter, and even appointed the day for the w^edding, without' either of them being able to recollect the circum- stances on the following morning. Whilst at breakfast on the morning in question, Burke, after finishing his first cup of tea, addressed Lis wortliy son as follows : — “ Ilycy, do you intend to live always this way?” “ Certainly not, ISIr. Burke. I expect to dine on something more substantial tlian tea.” “ You’re very stupid, Plycy, not to understand me; but, indeed, you never were overstocked wid brains, unfortunately, as I know to my cost — but wliat I mane is, have you any intention of changing your condition in life? Do you intend to marry, or to go on spendin’ money upon me at this rate !” “ The old lecture, Mrs. Burke,” said Hycy, address- ing his motlier. “Father, you are sadiy deficient in originality. Of late you are perpetually repeat- ing yourself. Why, I suppose to-morrow or next day, you will become geometrical on our hands, or treat us to a grammatical praxis. Don’t you think it very likely, Mrs. Burke ! ” “And if lie does,” replied his mother, “it’s not the first time he has been guilty of both ; but of late, all the little shame he had, he has lost it.” “ Faith, and if I liadn’t got a large stock. I’d a been run out of it this many a day, in regard of wliat I had to lose in that way for you, Hycy. How- ever, I’ll tliank you to listen te me. Have you any intention of marry in’ a w'ife?” “ Unquestionably, Mr. Burke. Not a doubt of it.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADaRRA. 231 Well, T am glad to hear it. The sooner yon’ re married, tlie sooner \ on‘li settle down. You’ll know then, my lad, what life is.” Honest Jemmy’s sarcasm was likely to carry him too far from liis purpose, which was certainly not to give a malicious account of matrimony, but, on the contrary, to recommend it to his wortiiy son. “Well, Mr. Burke,” said llyey, winking at his mother, “ |)roceed.” “Tile truth is, Ilycy,” he added, “I have a wife in my eye for you.” “I tliought as much,” replied the other, “I did imagine it was there you had her ; name — Mr. Burke — name.” “Troth, I’m ashamed to, Ilycy, to name her and yourself on tlie same day.” “Well can’t you name her to-day, and postpone me until to-morrow ?” “It would be almost a pity to liave her thrown away upon you. A good and virtuous wife, how- ever, may do a great deal to reclaim a bad husband, and, indeed you wouldn’t be the first profligate that was reformed in tlie same way.” “ Many thanks, Mr. Burke, you are quite geologi- cal this morning, isn't he, ma’am ?” “ When was he ever anything else ? God pardon him! However I know what he’s exterminatin’ for; he wants you to marry Kathleen Cavanaglu” “ Ay do I, Rosha; and she might make liim a re- spectable man yet, — that is if any woman could.” “ Geological again, mother; well really now Kat- sey Cavanagh is a splendid girl, a fine animal, no 232 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. doubt of it ; all her points are good, but at the samo time, Mr. Biiike, a trifle too plebeian for Hycy tlie acc(!mplished.’* ‘‘ I lell you she’s a devilish sight too good for you ; and if you don’t marry her, you’ll never get such a Mufe.” “ Troth,” answered Mrs. Burke, “ I think myself there’s something over you or you Avouldn’t spake as you do— a wife for Ilycy — one of Gerald Cava- nagh’s daughters make a wife for him ! — not while I’m alive at any rate, plaise God.” “While you’re alive ; well, may be not : — but sure if it pluses God to bring it about, on your own plan, I must endaivor to be contented, Rosha ; ay an’ how do you know but I’d dance at their weddin’ too ! lia ! ha ! ha ! ” “ Oh then it's you that’s the bitther pill, Jemmy Burke ! but thank God I disregard you at all events. It’s little respect you pay to my feelings or ever did.” “I trust, my most amiable mother, that you won't suffer the equability of your temper to be disturbed by anything proceeding from sucii an antiphlogistic source. Allow me to say, Mr. Burke, that I have higher game in view, and that for the present I must beg respectfully to decline tlie proposal which you so kindly mad(», fully sensible as I am of the honor you intended for me. If you will only exercise a little patience, however, perhaps I shall have the pleasure ere long of presenting to you a lady of higli accomplishments, amiable manners, and very con- siderable beauty.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHABaRRA. 233 Not a ‘ Crazy Jane ’ bargain, I hope ? ” “Really, Mr. Burke, you are pleased to be sarcas- tic; but as for honest Kalsey, Inive the goodness to lake lier out of your eye as soon as possible, for sl)e only blinds you to your own interest and to mine.” “ You wouldn’t marry Kitlileen, then ? ” “ For the present I say most assuredly not,” re- plied the son in the same ironical and polite tone. “Because,’' continued his father with a very grave smile in which there was, to say truth, a good deal of the grin visible, “as poor Gerald was a good deal anxious about the matther, I said, I’d try and make you marry her — to oblige himP Ilycy almost if not altogether lost Ids equanimity by the contemptuous sarcasm implied in these words. “ Father,” said he, “ to save trouble and to prevent you and me both from thrashing the wind in this manner, I think it right to tell you, that I liave no notion of marrying such a girl as Cavanagh’s daughter.” “No,” continued his mother, “nor if you had I wouldn’t suffer it.” “ Very well,” said the father, “ is that your mind?” “That’s my mind, sir.” “ Well now listen to mine, and maybe, Hycy, I’ll taiche y^ou better manners and more respect for your father; suppose I bring your brother liome from school, — suppose I breed him up an honest farmer, - — and suppose I give him all my property^ and lave Mr. Gentleman Ilycy to lead a gentleman’s life on his own means, the best way he can. There now is 234 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. something for you to suppose, and so I must go to my men.” He took up his hat as he spoke and went out to tile tit Ids, leaving both mother and son in no slight degive startled by an intimation so utterly unex- pected, but wh’ch they knew enough of him to believe was one not at all unliktdy to be actetl on by a man who so frequently followed up his own determinations with a spirit amounting almost to obsiinacy. “1 think, mother,” observed the latter, ‘‘ we must take in sail a little, ‘the gentleman’ won’t hear the ir.mical to such an extent although he is master of it in his own way ; in other words, Mr. Burke won’t bear to be laughed at.” “ Not he,” said his mother in the tone of one who was half angry at him on that very account, “he’ll bear notliing.” “D— 11 it, to tell that vulgar bumpkin, Cavanagh I supp<»se in a state of maudlin drunkenness, that he would make me marry his daughter — to oblige him ! contempt could go no further; it was making a com- plete cipher of me.” “Ay, but I’tn disturbed about what he said going out, Hyc3\ I don’t half like the face he had on him wlien he said it ; and when he comes to discover other things too, money mattliers — there will be no ktepiii’ the house wid him.” “I fear as much,” said Hycy, “ however we must only play our cards as well as we carV; he is an im- practicable man no doubt of it, and it is a sad thing THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 235 that a young fellow of sj)irit should be depending on such a — ‘ Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon, Ho vV can yon bloom so fi csb and.* air, How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sue weary fu’ o’ care, &c., Well, well — I do not relish that last hint certainly, and if other projects should fail, vvliy, as touching the fair Katsey, it miglit not be impossible that — how- ever time will develope. She is a fine girl, a mag- nificent creature, no doubt of it, still, most m item il relative, as I said, time will develope — by the way Mrs. M’Mahon, the clodhopper’s mother, is to be interred to-morrow, and I suppose you and ‘ the gentleman’ will attend the funeral.” “ Sai tinly, we must.” “ So sinill ‘ the accomplished.’ Clinton and I shall honor that lugubrious ceremony with our presence; but as respecting th«e clodhopper himself, meaning thereby Bryan of Ahadarra, he is provided for. What an unlucky thought to enter into the old fel- low’s n<*ddle! lloweve, noM constat^ as Finigan would say, time will develope.” “You’re not gainin’ ground with him at all events,” said his mother ; “ ever since that crazy Jane affair, he’s cliangi'd for tlie worse towards both of us, or ever since the robbery I ought to say, for he’s dark and has something on his mind ever since.” I’m in the dark there myself, most amiable of motliers ; however, as I said just now, I say time will develope.” 236 THE EMICHIANTS OF AHAHAEHA. * lie then began to prepare himself for the business of the day, which consisted principally in ridin about seeking out new adventures, or as they ten it, hunting in couples, with Harry Clinton. P 0^ THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 237 CHAPTER XIII. MRS. m’mAHOx’s funeral. On the morning of Mrs. M’Mahon’s funeral, the house as is usual in sucli cases, was filled with rela- tives anJ neighbors, each and all anxious to soothe and give comfort to the afflicted fAinily. Protes- tants ami Presbyterians were there, who entered as deeply and affect innately into the sorrow which was felt as if they were connected to them by blood. Moving about with something like authority, was Dennis O’Grady, the Roman Catholic Parish Clerk, who, with a semi-clerical bearing, undertook to di- rect the religious devotions which are usual on such occasions. In consequence of the dearth of scho(ds and teachers that then existed in our unfortunate country, it frequently liappened, that persons were, from necessity, engaged in aiding the performance of religious duties, who were possessed of very little education, if not, as was too often the case, abso- lutely ainl wholly illiterate. Dennis was not abso- lutely iiliief ate, but, in good truth, he was by no means far removed from that uncomfortable category. Finigan, the Schoolmaster, was also present; and as he claimed acquaintance with the classics, and could undei>tand and read with something like correct- ness the Latin offlc(‘S, which were fivqiiently re- jxaled on these occa'^ions it would be utterly impossible to describe the lofty scorn and 238 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. lianghly supercilious contempt with which he contemplated poor Dennis, who kept muttering away at the (Jonjlteor and De Prof and Is with a barbarity of pronunciation that rendered it impossi- ble for human ears to understand a single word he said. Finigan, swollen with an indignation which he could no longer suppress, and stirnulated by a glass or two of whisky, took three or four of the neigh- bors over to a corner, where, whilst his eyes re-^ted on Dennis with a most witheiing expression of scorn, he exclaimel — “Here, hand mo that manual, and get out o’ my way, you illiterate nonentity and most unsufferable a])pendage to religion.” He then took the book, and going over to the coffin, read in a loud and sonorous voice the De Profandis and other prayers for the dead, casting his eyes from time to time upon the unfortunate clerk with a con- temptuous bitterness and scorn that, for force of expression, could not be surpassed. When he had concluded, he looked around him with a sense of lofty triumph that was irresistible in its way. “Tiiere,” said he, “is something like accent and quantity for you — there is something that may, with- out derogation tt> religion, be called respectable pe- rusal — an’ yet to siy that a man like me, wid classi- cal accomplishments and propensities from my very cradle, should be set aside lor that illiterate vul- garian, merely because, like everj^ other great janius, I sometimes indulge in the delectable enjoyment of a copious libation, is too bad.” This in fact was the glsto^ his resentment against 0*Grady. He had been in the habit for some time THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 239 of acting as clerk to the priest, who bore with liis “copious libalioiis,” as he called tliem, until com- mon decency rendered it impossible to allow liim any longer the privilege of taking a part as clerk in the ceremonies of religion. When this was over, a rustic choir, whom the parish clerk had organized, and in a great measure tauglit himself, approached the body and sang a hymn over it, after which the preparations for its re- moval began to be made. Ever since the death of his wife, Thomas M’Mahon could not be prevailed upon to taste a morsel of food. He went about from place to place, marked by such evidences of utter prostration and desj)air that it was painful to look upon him, especially when one considered the truth, purity, and fervor of the affection that had subsisted between him and the inestimable w’oman he had lost. The only two in- dividuals capable of exercising any influence upon him now w’ere Bryan and his daughter Dora ; yet even they could not prevail upon him to take any sustenance. IJis face was haggard and pale as death, his eyes red and bloodshot, and liis very body, which had always been erect and manly, was now stoo[)ed and bent from the very intensity of his affliction. lie had been about the garden during the scene just described, and from the garden he passed round tltrougli all the office-houses, into everyone of which he entered, looking at them in the stu[)id bereave- ment of grief, as if he had only noticed them for tlie first time. On going into the cow-house where the animals were at their food, he approached one of 240 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA; them— til at which had been his wife’s favorite, and which would suffer no hand to milk her but lier own — “ Oil, Bracky,” he said, “lillle you know wlio’s gone from you— even you miss lier already, for you refused for the last three days to let any one of them milk you, when she was not here to do it. Ah, Bracky, the kind hand and the kind word that you liked so well will never be wid you more — that low sweet song that you loved to listen to, and that madt3 y’ou turn round while she was milkin’ you, an’ lick her wid your tongue from pure affection — for what was there that had life that didn’t love her? That low, sweet song, Bracky, you will never hear again. Well, Bracky, for her sake I’m come to tell yon, this sorrowful mornin’, that while I have life an’ the means oi keejiin’ you, from me an’ them she loved you will never part.” While he spoke, the poor animal, feeling from the habit of instinct that the hour of milking ha*! arrived, turned rod in tliat most pitia- ble category, but I know many who have — heigho! — and I know many who do, and some besides who will ; for what was before may be agin, and it will be nothing but ascendancy armed wid her iron rod on the one hand, against pitienc**, submission, and tribulation, wid their groans and penances on the other. Courage then, my worthy friend ; do not be overwhelmed wid grief, for 1 can assure you that as mailers in general go on the surface of this terraque- ous globe, the death of a wife ought to be set down as a f)?‘oof that heaven does not altogether overlook us. ’Tis true there are tears shed upon such occa- sions, and for very secret reason’s too, if the truth were known. Joy has its tears as well as grief, I believe, and it is often rather difficult, under a bles- sing so completely disguised as the death of a wi — THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 244 of one’s matrimonial partner, to restrain tliem. Come then, be a man. There is Mr. lT3’cy l>urke, a tender-hearted v’oiing gefitlernan, and if yon go on tliis wa}’’ y ii v\ill have liim weejjiiig fur sheer sym- palli}’, not pretermilling Mr. Cliiitun, his companion, w'ho is equally inclined to be paihelic, if one can judge from apparent symptoms.” “ I’m obliged to you, masther,” replied M'Mahon, who had not heard, or ratlier paid attention to, a single syllable he had littered, ‘‘ Of course it's tlirnih yuu're savin’ — it is — it is, farcer gair it is; and she that’s gone Irorn me is a ])roof of it. Wliat wondher then that I should shed tears, and feel as I do ? ’ The unconscious simplicity of this reply to such a singular argument for consolation as the schoolmas- ter had advanced, caused many to smile, some to laugh outright, and others to sympathize still more deef>ly with M’Mahon’s sorrow. Finigm’s allusion to Hycy and his companion was justilit^d by the con- trast which tim appearance of each jn-esented. Hycy, who enj«>yed his lecture on the tribulations of matiimonial life ver^" rnucli, laughed as he ad- vanced in It, whilst Clinton, who was really absori)- ed in a contemplation of the profound and solemn spirit which marked the chai*actcr of the grief he witnessed, and who h It impressi^d besides by the touching emblems of dealli and bereav* ment which surronn led him, gradually gave way to the impres- sions tiiat gained on him, until he abnosl felt the tears in his eyes. At this moment Kathleen and her sister Hanna 245 THE EMIGRANTS OP AHADARRA. entered the house, and a general stir took place among those who were present, which was caused by her strikingly noble ligure and extraordinary bi auty — a beauty wliidi, on the occasion in question, assumed a peculiarly dignified and njajestic charac- ter Iron) the deep and earnest sympathy with the surrounding sorrow that was irnurcs.^ed on it. llycy and his companion surveyed lier for many minutes; and tlie former began to think that after all, if Miss Clinton should fail him, Kathleen would make an admirable and most lovely wife. Her fa- ther soon after she entered came ovei*, and taking her hand said, Come wid me, Kathleen, till you shake hands wid a great friend of yours — wi idly and energetically disengaging his arms from about the insensible girl; “ have y’^ou no respect for Dora ? If you love her as you say, you could hard- ly act as you did.” “ Why,” said he, staring at her, “ what did I do ? Bryan took him firmly by the arm, and said, “ Come away, you foolish boy; I don’t think you know what you did. Leave her to the girls. Tiiere, she is recoverin’.” She did soon recover; but weak and broken down as she was, no persuasion nor even authority could prevail upon her to remain at home. Jemmy Burke, THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 251 who had intended to offer Kathleen a seat upon his car, wliich, of course, slie would not have accepted, was now outmanoeuvred by his w^fe, who got D«>ra besiile herself, after having placed a sister of Toni M’Mahon’s beside him. At length the coffin w\as brought out, and the keene raised over it, on the conclusion of which it was placed in the hearse, and the procession began to move on. Tiiere is nothing in the rural districts of this coun- try that so clearly indicates the respect entertained for any family as the number of persons which, when a death takes place in it, attend the funeral. In such a case, the length of the procession is the test of esteem in wdiich the party has been held. Mrs. M’Mahon’s funeral w^as little less than a mile long. All the respectable farmers and bodaghs, as they call them, or half-sirs in the jiarish, w^ere in at- tendance as a mark of respect for the virtues of the deceased, and of esteem for the integrity and upright spirit of the family that had been deprived of her so unexpectedly. Ilycy and his friend, Harry Clinton, of course rode together, Finigan the schoolmaster keeping as near tliem as he could ; but not so near as to render his presence irksome to them, when he saw that they had no wish for it. Well, Harry,” said Ids companion, “ what do you think of the last scene?” “You allude to Cavanngirs liandsome young son, and the very pretty girl that fainted, poor thing I” “ Of course 1 do,” replied Hycy. 252 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “Why,” said the other, “ I think the whole thing was very simple, and consequently very natural. The young fellow, \\ho is desperately in love, there is no doubt of that, thought she had died ; and upon my soul, Hycy, there is a freshness and a purity in the strongest raptures of such a passion, that neither you nor I can dream of. 1 think, however, I can un- derstand, or guess at rather, the fulness of heart and the tenderness by which he w^as actuated.” “ What do you think of Miss Cavanagh ?” a^ked Hycy, with more of interest than he had probably ever felt in her before. “ What do I think ?” said the other, looking at him with a good deal of surprise. “ What can I think? Wiiat could any man that has either taste or common sense think? Faith, Hycy, to be plain with you, I think her one of the linest girls, if not the very finest, I ever saw. Heavens! what would not that girl be if she had received the advantages of a polished and comprehensive educatiim ?” “ She is very much of a lady as it is,” added Hycy, “and has great natural dignity and unstudied grace, altln nigh I must say that she has left me under no reason to feel any particular obligations to her.” “ And yet there is a delicate and graceful purity in the beauty of little Dora, which is quite captivat- intr,” observed Clinton. “Very well,” re|>lied the other, “I make you a present of the two lair rustics; give me the interest- ing Maria. Ah, Harry, see what education and man- ner do. Maria is a delightful girl.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 253 She is an amiable and a good girl,” said her brother ; “ but in point of personal attractions quite inferior to either of the two we have been speaking of.” “ Finigan,” said Hycy — I beg your pardon, O’- Fiiiigan — the great O'Finigan, Philomath — are you a good judge of beauty ? ” “ Wliy, then, Mr. Hycy,” replied the pedagogue, “ I think above all subjects, that a thorough un- derstanding of that same comes most natural to an Irishman. It is a pleasant topic to discuss at all times.” “ Much pleasanter than marriage, I think,” said Clinton, smiling. “ Ah, Mr. Clinton,” replied the other with a shrug, ‘‘ de mortuis nil nisi bonum ; but as touching beau- ty, in what sense do you ask my opinion ? ” “ AVheiher now, for instance, would your learned taste prefer Miss Cavanagh or Miss Dora M’Mahon ? and give your reasons.” “ Taste, Mr. Hycy, is never, or at least seldom guided by reason ; the question, however, is a fair one,” “ One at least on a fair subject,” observed Clinton. “ A~ery well said, Mr. Clinton,” replied the school- master, with a grin — “there goes wit for us, no less — and originality besides. See what it is to have a great janius ! — ha ! ha ! ha ! ” “Well, Mr. O'Finigan,” pursued Hycy, “ btit about the ladies ? You have not given us your opinion.” “ Why, then, they are both highly gifted wid 254 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. beauty, and strongly calculated to excite the amor- ous sentiments of refined and elevated alfection.” “Well done, Mr. Plantation,” said Hycy; “you are i m pr« > v i ng — proceed . ” “Miss Cavanagh, then,” continued Finigan, “Pd say was a goddess, and Miss M'Mahon her attendant nymph.” “Good again, O’Finigan,” said Clinton; “you are evidently at home in tlie mythology.” “Among the goddesses, at any rate,” replied the master, with another grin. “Provided there’s no matrimony in the question,” said Clinton. “Ah, Mr. Clinton, don’t, if you please. That’s a subject you may respect yet as much as I do; but regarding my opinion of the two beauties in ques- tion, why was it solicited, Mr. Hycy?” he added, turning to that worthy gentleman. “Faith Pm not able to say, most learned Philo- math ; only is it true that Bryan, the clodhopper, lias matrimonial designs upon the fair daughter of the regal Cavanagh ? ” “ Sic vuU fama, Mr. Hycy, upon condition that a certain accomplished young gentleman, whose sur- name commences with the second letter of the alpha- bet, won’t ofibr — for in that case, it is affirmed, that the clodhopper should travel. By the way, Mr. Clinton, I met your uncle and Mr. Fethertonge riding up towards Aliadarra this morning.” “Indeed!” exclaimed both; and as they spoke, each cast a look of inquiry at the other. “What could bring them to Ahadarra, gentle- THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 255 men?” asked Finigan, in a tone of voice which rendered it a nice point to determine wlietlier it was a simple love of knowledge that induced him to put the question, or some other motive lhat might have lain within a kind oi ironical gravity that accom- panied it, “ Why, I suppose a pair of good horses, replied II ycy, “and their own inclination,” “ It was not the last, at all events,” said Finigan, “that ever brought a thief to the gallows — iia! hal ha ! we must be facetious sometimes, INIr. TTycy.” “You appear to enjoy that joke, Mr. Finigan,” said Ilycy, rather tartly. “Faith,” replied Finigan, “it’s a joke that very few do enjoy, I think.” “What is?” “Why, the gallows, sir— lia ! ha! ha! but don't forget the O if you pi lise — ever and always the big O before Finigan— ha ! ha! ha! “Come, Clinton,” sad Ilycy, “move on a little. T > — n tliat fellow ! ” he cried — “he’s a sneering scoun- drel ; and I’m half inclined to think he has more in him than one would be apt to give him credit for.” “By tlie way, what could the visit to Ahadarra mean ?” asked Clinton. “Do you know anything about it, Hycy ? ” “ Not about this; but it is very likely that I shall cause them, or one of them at least, to visit it on some other occasion ere long; and that’s all I can say now. Curse that keening^ what a barbarous practice it is ! ” • “I think not,” said the other; “ on the contrary, 256 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. I am of opinion that tliere’s something strikingly wild aitd poelic:il in it — sometliing that argues us Irish to be a people of deep feeling and strong im- agination — two of tlie liigliest gifts of intellect.” “All stuff,” replied the accomplished Ilycy, who, among his other excellent qualities, could never afford to speak a good word to his country or her people. “All stuft’and barbarous howding that we learned from the wolves wlien we liad them in Ire- land. Here we are at tlie graveyard.” “ llycy,” said his friend, “ it never occured to me to think of asking wdiat religion you believe in.” “ It is said,” replied Hycy, “that a fool may pro- pose a question which a wise man can’t answer. As to religion, I liave not yet made any determination among the variety that is abroad. Aman, however, can be at rio loss; for as every one of them is the best, it matters little wdiich of them he chooses. I think it likely I shall go to church with your sister, should we ever do matrimony together. To a man like me who’s indifferent, respectability alone ought to determine.” Clinton made no reply to this; and in a few min- utes afterward they” entered the churchyard, the coffin having been taken out of the hearse and borne on the shoulders of her four nearest relatives, — Tom Id’Mahon, in deep silence and affliction, pre- ceding it as chief mourner. Tlnu-e is a prostrating stupor, or rather a kind of agoniziiig d« lirium that comes over the mind when w”e are forced to mingle with crowds, and have our ears filled with the voices of lamentation, the sounds THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 2o7 of the death-bell, or the murmur of many people in conversation. ’Twas thus M’Maiion felt during the whole procession. Sometimes he thought it was re- lief, and again he felt as if it was only the mere alternation of suffering into a sharper and more Jreadfiil sorrow; for, change as it might, there lay tugging at ins heart the terrible consciousness th.at she, the bride of his youthful love and the companion of his larger and more manly affection — the blame- less wife and the stainless woman — was about to be consigned to the grave, and that his eyes in this life must never rest u))on her again. When the coffin was about to be lowered down, all the family, one after another, clasped their arms about it, and kissed it with a passionate fervf>r of grief that it was impossible tovyitness with firmness. At length her liusband, who had been looking on, approached it, and clasping it in his arms like the rest, he said — for ever and for ever, and for ever, Bridget — but, no, gracious God, no ; the day will come, Bridget, when I will be with you here — I don’t care now how soon. My happiness is gone ^ ast hoi* e life is nothing to me now — all’s empty; and there’s neither joy, nor ease of mind, nor com- fort for me any more. An’ this is our last partin’ — this is our last farewell, Bridget dear; but from this out my liope is to be with you here ; and if nothing else on my bed of death was to console me, it would be, and it will be, that you and I will then sleep together, never to be parted more. That will be my consrdation.” “Now, father dear,” said Bryan, “ we didn’t at- 258 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. tempt to Stop or prevent you, and I hope you’ll be Bornetliing cairn an 1 come away fi)r a little.” “Best of sons! but aren’t you all g(»od, for how could you beollrerwise with her blood in your veins? — bring me away; come you, Dora darlin’ — ay, that’s it — sup|)ort the blessed child between you and Hanna, Kathleen dar lin’. Oh, wait, wait till we get out of hearin’, or the noise of the clay failin’ on the coffin will kill me.” They then walked to some distance, where they remained until the “ narrow house” was nearly filled, after which they once more surrounded it until the last sod was beaten in. This being over, the sor- rowing group sought their way home with breaking hearts, leaving behind them her whom they had loved so well reposing in the cold and unbroken solitude of the grave. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 259 CHAPTER XIV. A MYSTERIOUS LETTER -IIYCY DISCLAIMS SOBRIETY AUADARRA’s in FOR IT. One day about a month after Mrs. M'Mahon’s funeral, Harry Clinton was on liis way to Jemmy Burke’s, when he met Nanny Peety going towards Ball ymacan. “Well, Nanny,” he inquired, “where are you bound lof', now ? ” “To the post office with a letter from Masther Ilycy, sir. I wanted him to tell me wlio it was for, but he would not. Will you, Mr. Clinton ? ” and she hehi out the letter to him as she spoke. •Clinton felt a good deal surprised to see that it was addressed to his uncle, and also written in a hand which he did not recognize to be tliatof llycy Burke. “ Are you sure, Nanny,” he asked, “ that this let- ter was written by Mr. llycy?” “ Didn’t 1 see him, sir?” she replied ; “ he wrote it before my eyes a minnte before he handed it to me. Who is it for, Mr. Clinton?” “ Why are you so very anxious to know, Nanny?” he inquired. “Sorra thing,” she replied, “but curosity — a wo- man's curosity, you know.” “Well, Nany, you know, or ought to know, that it would not be right in me to tell you who the let- 260 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. ter is for, when Mr. Ilycy did not think proper to do so.” “ True enough, sir,” she r^ plied ; “ an’ I beg your pardon, IMr. Clinton, for asking you; indeed il was Avrong in me to tell you wlio it came from even, t)e- kaise Mr. Ilycy told me not to let any one see it, only jist to slip it into the post office unknownst, as I passed it; an’ that was what made me wish to know who it was goin’ to, since the thruth must be tould.” Clinton in turn now felt his curiosity stimulated as to the contents of tliis mysterious epistle, and he resolved to watch, if possible, what elfect the peru- sal of it might have on his uncle, otiierwise he was never likely to hear a syllable that was contained in it, tliat worthy relative being from official necessity, a most uncommunicative person in all his proceed- ings. “ I wonder,” observed Clinton, “ that Mr. Hycy would send to any one a letter so slurred and blot- ted with ink as that is.” “ Ay, but he blotted it purposely himself,” replied Nanny, “ and that too surprised me, and made me wish to know what he could mane by it.” “ Perhaps it’s a love-letter, Nanny,” said Clinton, laughing. “ I would like to know who it is to, at any rate,” said the girl ; “but since you won't tell me, sir, I must try and not lose my rest about it. Good-bye, Mr. Clinton.” “Good-bye, Nanny;” and so they parted. Young Clinton, who, though thoughtless and fond THE EMIGRANTS OF AH AD A RR A. 261 of pleasure, was not without many excellent points o(‘ character, began now to perceive, by every day’s suc< essiive iniimacy, the full extent ot* Hycy Burke’s l^ri»fligacy of morals, and utter want of all honorable principle. Notwithstanding this knowledge, iiow- ever, lie felt it extremely dilHcult, nay almost impos- sible, to separate himself from Hycy, who was an extremely pleasant young fellow, and a very agree- able companion when he jileased. lie had in fact gained that personal ascendancy over him, or that licentious influence which too many of his stamp are notorious for exercising over better men thaii them- selves ; and he found that he could not readily throw llycy off, without being considerably a loser by the act. ‘‘I shall have nothing to do with his profligacy,” said he, “ or his want of principle, and I shall let him know at all events, that I will not abide by the agreement or compromise entered into between us Some time since, at his father’s, lie shall not injhire an honest man for mo, nor shall I promise him even neutrality with respect to his j)roposal for my sister whom I would rather see dead a hundred times than the wife of such a fellow.” The next morning, about half an hour before breakfast, he tohl his uncle that he was stepping into town and would bring him any letters that might be for him in the post-office. lie accordingly did so, and received two letters, one Hycy’s and the other with the crest and frank of the sitiiF»g member for the county, wlio was no other than young Chevy dale. His uncle was at breakfast when 262 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. he handed them to him, and we need hardly say that the M. P. was honored by instant attention. The Siili-houml read it over very complaceritly. “Very well,” he exclaimed; “very well, iinleed, so far. Harry, we must be on the alert, now tlie eh ciions are approaching, and Chevydale will be stoutly op- posed, it seems. We must work for him, and secure as many votes as we can. It is our interest to do so, Harry, — and he will make it our interest In sides.” “Has principle nothing to do with it, sir?” “Principle! begad, sir,” retorted the u»ic1e, “ there’s no such tiling as principle — lay that down as a fact — there’s no such thing in this world as prin- ciple.” “Well, but consistency, uncle. For instance, you know you always vote on the Tory side, and Chevy, dale is a Liberal and an Emancipator.” “ Consistency is an d — d slull, Harry, aspiinciple. What does it mean ? why that if a man’s once wrong he’s alw^ays to be wrong — that is just the amount of it. Tiiere’s Chevydale, for instance, he has a brother who is a rank Tory and a Conimis'*ioner of Excise, mark that ; Chevydale and he play into each other’s hands, and Chevydale some of these days vill sell the Liberals, that is, if he can get good value for them. If I now vote on the Tory sirle against Chevydale, his brother the Tory Commis- sioner will be my enemy in spite of all his Toryism ; but if I vote and exert myself for Chevydale tiie Lioeral, I make his Tory of a brother niy^ friend for life. And now, talk to me about principle, or consis- tency either.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHAHARRA. 263 His nephew could not but admit, that the instan- ces aduced by his uncle were admirably calculated to illustrate his argument, and he accordingly pur- sued the subject no fun her. “Ay!” exclaimed the Still-hound, “whatd — d scrawl have we got here? Ay, ay, why this is bet- ter than I expected.” “ What is better, uncle ? ” said the nephew, ven- turing an experiment. “ Why,” replied the sagacious old rascal, “ for you to mind your business, if you have any, and to let me mind mine, without making impertinent inquiries. Master Harry.” With these words he went and locked up both letters in his desk. As we, however, possess the power of unlocking his desk, and reading the letter to boot, we now take the liberty of laying it in all its graphic beauty and elegance before our readers — “ To Mistiier Kuntox, Sir, “ Af you go this nite bout seven clocks or there- away, you’d find a Still-IIed an’ Worm At full work, in they upper End iv Tiie brown Glen in Ahadarra, Sir, thrum wan iv Die amstrung’s Orringemeu an’ a fren to the axshize.” The guager after breakfast again resumed the con- versation as follows : — “Have you changed your mind, Harry, regarding the Excise? because if you have I think I may soon have an opportunity of getting you a berth.” “No, sir, I feel an insurmountable repugnance to the life of a Still — hem.” 264 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “Go OH, ran n, to the life of a Still-hunter. Very well. Your father’s death last year left you nrai your sister there dependent upon me, for the present at least ; for what could a medical man only ri'ing into practice, with a family to support and educate, leave behind 1dm?” “ Unfortunately, sir, it is too true.” “ In tl»e mean time you may leave ^ ur* fortunate'* out, and thank God tinit you had the shelter of my roof to come to; and be on your knees, too, that I Avas a bachelor. Well, 1 am glad myself that I had and have a home for you ; but still, Harry, you ought to think of doing something for yourself; for I may not live always, you know, and besides Iain not rich. You don’t relish surgery, you say ?” “ I can’t endure it, uncle.” “ But you like farming ?” “ Above every otiier mode of life.” “Very well, I think it’s likely I shall have a good farm to put you into before long.” “Thank you, uncle. You may rest assured that both Maria and myself are fully sensible of the kind- ness we have experienced at your hands.” “Small thanks to me for that. Who the devil would I assist, if not my brother’s orphans? It is true, I despise the world, but still we must make our use of it. I know it consists of only knaves and fools. Now, I respect the knaves ; for if it weren’t for their roguery, the world would never work ; it would stand still and l)e useless. The fools I des- pise, not so much because they are fools, as because they Avotild be knaves if they could ; so that, you THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 265 see I return again to my favorite principle of no ho- iiecity. 1 am going to 13allymacau on business, so good-bye lo you both.’* Uncle,” said his nephew, “ one word with you before you go.” “ Wiiat is it ?” Would you suffer me to offer you a word of advice, and will you excuse me for taking such a liberty with a man of your experience?” Certainly, Hairy, and siiall always feel thankful to any one that gives me good advice.” “ if this is not good advice, it is at least well intended.” “Let us hear it first, and then we shall judge better.” “ You say you will procure me a farm. Now, uncle, there is one thing I should wish in connexion with that transaction, which is, that you would have no unherhand — hem! — no private understanding of any kind with Mr. — Hycy Burke.” “Me a private understanding with Ilycy Burke ! What in the devil’s name has put such a crotchet as that into your head ? ’ “ I only speak as I do, because I believe you have received a private communication from him.” “ Have I, faith ! If so I am obliged to you — but I am simply ignorant of the fact you mention ; for, with my own knowledge,! never received a line from him in my life.” “Then! must be wrong,” replied Harry ; “that is all.” “Wrong! Certainly you are wrong. Hycy 12 266 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADABRA. Burke, I am told, is a compound of great knave and gross fool, the knavery rather prevailing. But how is this? Are not you and he inseparable?” “ He is a companion, uncle, but not a friend in the true sense — nor, indeed, in any sense of that word. I spoke now, however, wiili reference to a particular transaction, and not to his general character.” “ Well, then, I have no underhand dealings with him, as you are pleased to call them, nor ever had. I never to my knowledge received a line from him in my life ; but I tell you that if he comes in my way, and that I can make use of him, I will. Per- haps he may serve us in the Elections. Have you anything else to ask?” “ No sir,” replied Harry, langliing. “ Only I hope you will excuse me for the liberty I took.” “Certainly, with all my heart, and you shall be always welcome to take the same liberty. Good- bye, again.” Clinton now felt satisfied that Hycy’s letter to his uncle was an anonymous one, and although he could not divine its contents, he still felt assured that it was in some way connected with the farm transac- tion, or at all events detrimental to Bryan M’Mahon. lie consequently resolved to see Hycy, against whom, or rather against whose principles he was be- ginning to entertain a strong repugnance, and with- out any hesitation to repudiate the engagement he had entered into with him. He found Ilycy at home, or rather he found him THE EMIGRANTS OF AHAHARRA. 2G7 in conversation with Bat Ilogin behiinl his father’s gaf»]t-n. “ Wiiat was that ruffian wanting witli you, Hycy, il il’s a lair qiusiion?’* “Pcrfecily,’ said Hycy, ‘‘from you; but not in sooth from your worthy uncle/’ “ How is lliat?” “Simply, he wants to know if I'd buy a keg of Poteen which, it seems, he lus to sell. I declined because I liave a sufficiently ample stock of it on hamls.” My uncle,” said Clinton, “ prefers it to any other sj»iiils; indeed, at home he never drinks any other, and whenever he dines, thanks those who give it the preference.” “ C me in, and let us have a glass of poteen grog, in the mean time,” said Hycy, “for it’s bet- ter still in grog than in punch. It’s a famous relish f >r a slice of ham ; but, as tlie Scotch saj^, baith’s best.” Having discussed tlie grog and ham, the conver- sation went on. “ Hycy,” proceeded his companion, “ with respect to that foolish arrangement or bargain w^e made the odier night, I won’t liave any tiling to say* or do in it. You sliall impoverisli or ruin no honest man on my account. 1 was lialf drunk or whole drunk, othervyise I wouldn’t have listened to such a prt)posal.” “ Wha do you mean ?” said Hycy, with a look of very natural snrpiise, and a pause of some time, “I don't understand you.” 268 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “ Don t you remember the foolish kind of stipula- tion we entiM-ed into with reference to Al'Mahon’s farm, of Aliadarra, on ilie one hand, and my most amiable (d n me but I ought to be horsewhip- ped for ii) sister on llie other?” “ No,” replied IIycy,“ devil a syllable. My word and honor, Harry.” “Well, if you don’t, then, it’s all right. You didn’t appear to be tipsy, though.” “ I never do. Hurry. In that rei^pect I'm tlie d dest, hypocriticil rascal in Europe. I’m a perfect j►heno^leuon ; for, in proportion as I get drunk in intellect, I get sober botli in my carriage and appearance. However, in Heaven’s name let me kiMW the bargain if there was one?” “No, no,” replied his fiiend, “it was a disgrace- ful affair on both sides, and the less that’s said of it the better.” By a good deal of persuasion, however, and an additional glass of grog, he prevailed on Clin- ton to repeat the substance of the stipulation; on hearing which, as if for the first time, he laughed very heartily. “This liquor,” lie proceeded, “is a strange com- pound, and puts queer notions intoourhead. Why, if there’s an lionest decent fellow in Europe, wliom I Would feel anxious to serve beyond another, next to yourself, Harry, it is Bryan M 'Mahon. But \vl)V I should have spoken so, I can't understand at all. In tlie first place, what means have I of injur- ing the man ? And what is stronger still, what in- THE EMIGRANTS OP AHADARRA. 269 clination liave I, or could have — and wliat is still belter — slioiild liave?” “I do assure you it did not raise you in my opinion.* “ Faith, no wonder, Ilarrj”, and I am only sur- prised you didn’t speak to me sooner about it. Si ill,” be proceeded, smiling, “ there is one porlion of it I should not wish to see cancelled — 1 mean your advocacy with Miss Clinton.” “To be plain with you, llycy, I wasli my hands out of that affair too ; I won’t promise ad- vocacy.” “ Well, neutrality?” “The truth is, neither neutrality nor advocacy would avail a rush. I have reason to think that my sister’s objections against you are insuperable.” ‘ On what do they rest?” asked the other. “They are founded upon your want of morals,” replied. Chin ton. “ Well, supj)ose I reform my morals?” “That is, substitute hypocrisy for profligacy; I fear, Ilycy, the elements of reformation are rather slight within you.” “Seriou^ly, you do me injustice; and, besides, a man ought not to be judged of his morals before marriage, but after.” “Faith, both before and after, in my opinion, ITvcv. No well-educated, right-minded girl would marry a man of depraved morals, knowing him to be such.” “But I really am not worse than others, nor so bad as many. Neither have I the reputation of 270 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. being an immoral man. A little wild and over-im- pulsive from animal spirits I may be, but all that will pass otF with the new state. No, no, d — n it, don’t allow Miss Clinton to imbibe such prejudices. I do not say that I am a saint; but I shall settle down and bring her to church very regularly, and bear tiie se moii with most edifvin2C attention. Au- otiier glass of grog ?” “ No, no.” “ But I hope and trust, my dear Harry, that you liave not been making imjiressions against me.” “Unquestionably not. I only say you have no chance whatever in that quarter.” “ Will you allow me to try ? ” asked ITycy. “I have not the slightest objection,” replied the other, “ because I know how it will result.” “Very well, — thank you even for that same, my dear Harry; but, seriously speaking, I fear that neither you nor I are leading the kind of lives we ought, and so far I cannot quarrel wilU your sister’s principles. On the contrary, the}^ enable me to ap- ])reciate her if pos>«ib!e still more highly ; fora clear and pure standard o( morals in a wife is not only the best fortune but the best security for happiness be- sides. You might stop and dine?” “ No, thank you, it is impossible. By the w^ay, I liave already spoiled my dinner with that splendid kam of yours. Giv^e me a call when in town.” Hycy, after Clinton's departure, began to review 1 is own position. Of ultimately succeeding with Miss Clinton he entertained little doubt. So high and confident was his vanity, that he believed him- THE EMIGRANTS GF AHADARRA. 271 self capable of performing mighty feat<^, and achiev- ing great succt^sses, with ths fair sex,-^all upon the sirengih of liaving destroyed the reputation of two innocent country girls. Somehow, notwithstanding his avowed attaelunent for Miss Clinton, he could not help no*w and then revertirjg to the rich beauty and magiiiticent form of Katldeen Cavanagh ; nor Mas this contemplation of his lessened by consider- ing that, with all his gentlemanly manners, and ac- complishments, and wealth to boot, she preferred the clod-hopper, as he called Bryan M’Mahon, to himself. lie felt considerably mortified at this reflection, and the more especially, as he had been frequently taunted with it and laughed at for it by the country girls, whenever he entered into at^y bantering con- versaiion. A thought now struck him by which he could, as lie imagined, execute a very signal revenge upon I\l’Mahon through Kathleen, and perhaps, ulti- mately upon Kathleen herself, if he should succeed with Miss Clinton ; for he did not at all forgive Katlileen the two public instances ol contempt with which she had treated him. There was still, how- ever, another c<*nsi deration. His lather had threat- ened lo bring home his brother Elward, then des- tined for the cimrch, and altogether to change his intentions in that, respect. lndeele but that I may dignify ibe fair Katsey wiih tile honorable title of Mrs. Ibirke.” “I wish you had spoken a little sooner, then,” re- plied his father, “ bekaise it so happens that Gerald Cavan lorli an’ I have the match between her and your brother Ned as good as made.” “My brother Ned ! Why, in the name of all that’s incredible, how could that be encorapa8ser this in fact was liequently the case on such occasions. On looking through the premises, which they did by the light of a large fire, they found precisely that Avhich had been mentioned in Hycy’s letter — to wit, the Still, the Head, and the Worm; but with the ex- ception of an old broken rundlet or two, and a crazy vessel of wash that was not worth removing, there was nothing whatsoever besides. The Still was on the fire half filled with water, the Head was on the Still, and the Worm was attached 2T» THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. to the Head precisely as if they were ia the process of distillation. “ Ay,” said Clinton, on seeing how matters stood, ‘‘ I think I understand tins aff:;ir. It’s a disappoint- ment in one sense — but a sure enough card in an- other. The fine is certain, and Ahadarra is most undoubtedly in for it.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 27a CHAPTER XV. STATE OF THE COUNTRY — HYCY’s FRIKNDSIITP FOR BRYAN m’mAHON BRYAN's INTERVIEW WITH HIS LANDLORD. Bryan M’.Maiion’s last interview with Feather- tonge was of so ciieering a nature, and indicated on the part of that gentleman so much true and sterling kindness towanls the young man and his family, that he felt perfectly satisfied on leaving him, and after having turned their conversation over in his mind, tliat he might place every confidence in the assurance he had given him. His father, too, who had never for a moment doulited Feathertonge, felt equally gratified at Bryan’s report of their interview, as indeed did the whole family; they consequently spart d ntdther labor nor expense in tlie improve- ments which they were making on their farms. The situation of the country atid neighborhood at this period was ind^eil peculiar, and siicii as we in this unhappy country^ have experienced both before and since. I have already stated, that there was a partial failure of the potato crop that season, a cir- cu?nstance which uniformly is the forerunner of famine and sickness. The fiilure, however, on that occasion was not caused by a blight in the haulm, or, to use plainer words, by a sudden witiier- ing of the stalks, but by large portions of the seed failing to grow. The partial scarsity, however, oc- 280 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. casioned by this, although it did not constitute what c m w’iili i^ropriety be tenned famine, caused the great mass of pauperism which such a season always extends and increases, to press so heav ly upon the struggling farmers, that their patience and benevo- lence became alike tired out and exhausted. This perpetually recurring calamity acts with a most de- pressing effect upon those persons in the country who have any claim to be considered independent. It deprives them of hope, and consequently of ener- gy, and by relaxing the spirit of industry which has animated them, tends in the course of time to unite them to the great body of pauperism which op- presses and eats up the country. But let us not be misunderstood. This evil alone is sufficiently dis- astrous to the industrial energies of the class we meniion ; but when, in addition to this, the hitherto independent farmer has to contend with high rents, want of sympathy in his landlord, who probably is ignorant of his very existence, and has never seen him perhaps in his life; and when it is considered that he is left to the sharp practice and pettifoggiiig, but plausible rapacity of a dishonest agent, who feels that he is irresponsible, and may act the petty tvrant and vindictive oppressor if he wishes, having no re- straint over his principles but his interest, which, so far from restraining, only guides and stimulates them ; — when we reflect upon all this, and feel, be- sides, that the political principles upon wdiich the country is governed are those that are calculated to promote British at the expense of Irish interests — we say, when we reflect upon and ponder over all THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 281 this, we need not fnel surprised tliat the prudent, the industri’ us, and the respe(rtable, who see noUiing hut gradual decline aud uliimate paupeii^in hef »re tlieni — who fdel thernselves in^glected and over- looked, and know tliat every sixtli or seven Ui year tliey are liable to those oppressive onsets of distress, sickness, and famine, — we need not, we repeat, feel at all surju'ised that those who constitute this indus- trious and respectable class sliould fly from the evils which surround them, and abandon, whilst they pos- sess tiie power of dt)ing s >, the country in wliich such evils are permitted to exist. It is uj)on this principle, or rather upon these prin- ciples, and for these reason^*, that the industry, the moral feeling, the indepemlence, and the strength of the country have been passing out of it for years — leavi»»g it, season after season, weaker, more iui- poverisiied, and less capable of meeting those peri- odical ilisastcrs wliich, we may abnost say, are gmie- ratt'd by the social disorder and political misrule of the country. The fact is, and no reasonable or honest man capa- ble of disencumbering himself of political juvjudices can^deny it, that up until a recent period the great body of the Irish people — the wdiole people — were mainly looked upon and used as political instru- ments in the hands of the liigiier classes, but not at all entitled to the possession of separate or indepen- dent interests in tlieir own right. It is true they were allowed the possession of the fori y shil ling fran- chise; but will any man say that the existence of that civil right was a benefit to the country ? So 282 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. far from that, it was a mere engine of corruption, ami became in the liamls of the Irish landlords one of the most op[>ressive and demoralizhig cursv‘8 that ever degraded a people. Peijury, fraud, falsehood, and dishonesty, were its fruits, and the only leiracy it left to the country w^as an enormous mass of pau- perism, and a national morality comparatively vitia- ted and depraved, in spite of all religious influence and of domestic affections that are both stnmg and tender. Indeed it is exceedingly difficult to deter- mine whether it has been more injurious to tlie coun- try in a political than in a moral sense. Be that as it may, it had a powerful effect in producing the evils that we now suffer, and our strong tendencies to social disorganizaiion. By it tiie landlords were in- duced, fn- the sake of multiplying votes, to eiicour-, age the subdivision of small holdings into those that were actually only nominal or fictitious, and tlie consequences were, that in multi plying votes they were rnubi plying families that had no fixed means i>f subsistence — muiiifdying in facta pauper population — multipyling not only perjuiy, fraud, falsehood, and dishonesty, but destitntii>n, misery, disease and death. By tlie forty-shilling franchise, the lamilords encum- bered the soil with a loose and unsettled population tiiat possessed within itself, as poverty always does, a fearful facility of reproduction — a popula- tion which ])ressed lieavily upon the indepen- dent class of farmers and yeomen, but whicli ]iated, they will continue to embarrass the country, arid to drive out of it, al- ways in connexion witli other causes, the very class of persons that constitute its remaining strength. At the pre-Jen t period of our narrative, the neigh- borhood of Ballvmacan was in an unsettled and dis Iressfnl state. The small farmer-J, aneople was it found, that in the course of a very few years it was repealed, but not until it had led to re- peated murders and brought ruin and destruction upon many an unoffending and industrious family. Bryan now bethouglit him of the warnings he THE EMIGRAlffTS OF AHADARRA. 287 ha<3 received form the gnager and Fethertonge, and resolved to see both, that lie might be enabled, if possible, to trace to its source the plot that had been laid for his destruction, lie accordingly wentdi)wn to his father’s at Carriglass, where he had not been long when Ilycy Burke made his appearance, “ Hav- ing come that far on his way,” he said, “to see him, and to ascertain the truth of the report that had gone abroad respecting the heavy responsibility un- der which the illicit distillation had ]»laced him.” Bryan was naturally generous and without suspicion; but notwithstanding this, it was impossible that lie should not entertain some slight surmises touching o o the sincerity of Burke. “ What is this, Bryan ? ” said the latter. “Can it be possible that you’re m for the Fine, as report goes ? ” “It’s quite possible,” replied Bryan ; “on yester- day I got a notice of proceedings from the Board of Excise.” “ But,” pursued liis friend, “ what devil could liave tempted you to have anything to do with illicit distill ition ? Didn’t you know the danger of it? ” “ I had no more to do with it,” replied Bryan, “than you had — nor I don’t even rightly know yet who had ; though, indeed, I believe I may say it was these vagabonds, the Hogans, that has their hands in everything that’s wicked and disgraceful. They would ruin me if they could,” said Bryan, “and I suppose it was with the hope of doing so that they set up the still where they did.” “ Well, now,” replied Ilycy, with an air of easy 283 THE EMIGRANTS OP AHADARRA. and natural generos^ity, “I should be sorry to think so: ti>ey are d — d scoundrels, iv ratlier common rufiians, I grant you; but still, Bryan, I don’t like to suspect even such vagabonds without good grounds. Bad as we know them to be, I have my doubts whether they are capable of setting about such an act for the diabolical purpose of bringing you to ruin. Perliaps they merely deemed tlie place on your farm a convenient one to build a siill- house in, and that they never thought further about it.” “ Or what,” replied Bryan, “ if there was some one behind their backs who is worse than themselves? Mightn’t sich a tiling as tliat be possible?” “True,” replied llycy, “true, indeed — that’s not improbable. Stay — no — well it may be — but — no — I can’t think it.” “ What is it you can’t think ? ” “ Why, such a thing miglit be,” proceeded ITycy, “ if y'ou have an enemy ; but I think, Bryan, you are loo well liked— and justly so too— if you will excuse me f«»r saying so to your hme — to liave a;?y enemy capable of going such nefarious lengths as that.” Bryan paused and seemed a good deal struck with the trulli of Ilycy's observation — “There’s raison, sure enough, in what y^ou say, llycy,” he observed. “ I don't know tliat I have a single enemy — unless the Hogans themselves — that would feel any satisfac- tion in diiviii’ me to destruction.” “And besides,” continued llycy, “ between you and me now, Bryan, who the devil with an ounce of THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 289 sense in his head would trust such scoundrels, or put himself in tlieir power? Bryan considered this argument a still more forci- ble one than the other. “Tnat’s stronger still,” he replied, ‘‘and indeed I am inclined to think that after all, Hycy, it hap- pened as you say. Teddy Phats, I think nothing at all about, for the poor, mis-shapen vagabone will distil poteen for any oue that employs him.” “True,” replied the other, “I agree with you; but what’s to be done, Bryan? for that’s the main P' int novv^” “ I scarcely know,” replied Bryan, who now began to feel nothing but kindness towards Hycy, in conse- quence of the interest wliich that young fellow evi- dently took in his misfortune, for such, in serious truth, it must be called. “I am the only proprietor of Ahadarra,” he proceeded, “and, as a matter of course, the whole fine falls on my shoulders.” “ Ay, that’s the devil of it; but at all events, Bryan, there is nothing got in this world without exertion and energy. Mr. Chevydale, the Member, is now at home: he has come down to canvass for tlie coming election. I would recommend you to see him at once. You know — but perhaps you don’t though — that his brother is one of the Commission- ers of Excise; so that I don’t know any man who can serve you more effectually than Chevydale, if he wishes.” “ But what could he do? ” asked Bryan. “ Why, by backing a memorial from you, stating the particulars, and making out a strong case, he 13 290 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. might get the fine reduced, I shall draw up such a memorial if you wish.” “ Thank you, llycy — I’m obliged to you — these, I dare say, will be the proper steps to take — thank you.” Nonsense ! but perhaps I may serve you a little in another way. I’m very intimate with Harry Clinton, and who know^s but I may be able to influ- ence the uncle a little through the nepiiew.” “It’s whispered that you might do more through the niece,” replied Bryan, laughing; “is that true ?” “ Nonsense, I tell yon,” replied Hycy, afiecting confusion ; “ for Heaven’s sake, Bryan, say nothing about that; how did it come to your ears?” “ Faith, and that’s more than I can tell you,” re- plied the other ; “ but I know I heard it somewhere of late.” “It’s not a subject, of course,” continued Hycy, “ that I should w ish to become the topic of vulgar comment or conversation, and I’d much rather you would endeavor to discountenance it whenever you hear it spoken of. At all events, whether with niece or nephew,” proceeded Hycy, “ you may rest assur- ed, that whatever service I can render you, I shall not fail to do it. You and I have had a slight misun- derstanding, but on an occasion like this, Bryan, it should be a bitter one indeed that a man — a generous man at least, — would or ought to remember.” This conversation took place whilst Bryan was proceeding to Fethertonge’s, Hycy being also on his way home. On arriving at the turn of the road THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 291 which led to Jemmy Burke’^, ITycy caught the lunul of his companion, whici» he squeezed w ith an atihciioiiaie Avarmlh, so cordial and sincere in its cl)jn*;tcter, that Bryan cast every sliadovv of suspici^ni to tiie winds. “ Cheer up, Bryan, all will end better than you think, I hope. I sliall draw up a memorial for you tins eveniiiLf, as strongly and forcibly as possible, and any oilier assislance that I can render you in this unhap|)y djfiicnUy, I will do it. 1 know I am above ninety pounds in your debt, and instead of talking to you in this way, or giving you fair words, I ought railier to pay you your money. The ‘gen- tleman,’ however, is impracticable for the present, but I trust “Not a word about it,” said Bryan, “you’ll oblige me if you'll drop that part of tlie subject ; but listen, Ilycy — I think you're generous and a little extrava- gant, and both is a good man’s case— but that’s not what I’m going to spake about, truth's best at all times ; I heard that you were my enemy, and I was desired to be on my guard against you.” Ilycy looked at liiru with that kind of surprise which is natural to an innocent man, and simply said, “May I ask by whom, Bryan?” “I may tell you some otiiertime,” replied Bryan, “ but I won’t now; all I can say is, that I don’t be- lieve it, and Frn sure that ought to satisfy you.” “1 sh:dl expect you to tell me, Bryan,” said the other, and then after returning a fewstep^, he caught M'Malom s hand again, and sliaking it warmly, once more added, “ God bless you, Bryan ; you are a gen- 292 THE EMIGRAOTS OF AHADARRA. erous, high-minded young fellow, and I only wish I was like you/’ Bryan, after they had separated, felt that Ilyey’s advice was the very best possible under tlie circum- stances, and as lie had lieard for the first time, that Chevydale was in the country, he resolved to go at once and state to him the peculiar grievance under which he labored. Chovydale’s house was somewhat nearer Ahadarra til an Fethertonge’s, but on the same line of road, and he accordingly proceeded to the residence of his landlord. The mansion indeed was a fine one. It stood on the brow of a gentle eminence, which com- manded a glorious prospect of rich and highly culii- vated country. Behind, the landscape rose gradual- ly until it terminated in a range of mountains that ])rotected the h'Uise from the north. The present structure was modern, having been built by old Chevydale, previous to his marriage. It was large and simple, but so majestic in appearance, that noth- ing could surpass the harmony that subsisted be- tween its proportions and the magnificent old trees which studded the glorious lawn that surrounded it, and rose in thick extensive masses that stretched far away behind the house. It stood in a park, which for the beauties of wood and water was indeed wor- thy of its fine simplicity and grandeur — a park in which it was difficult to say whether the beautiful, the picturesque, or the wild, predominated most. And yet in this princely residence Mr. Chevydale did not reside more than a month, or at most two, during the whole year. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHAOARRA. 293 On reaching the hall-door, M’Mahon inquired from the servant w ho appeared, if he could see Mr. Chevy- dale. “ I’m afraid not,” said the servant, “ but I will see ; what’s your name ? ” “ Bryan M’Mahon, of Ahadarra, one of his ten- ants.” The servant returned to him in a few moments, and said, “Yes, he will see you; foliovv me.” Bryan entered a library where he found liis land- lord and Fethertonge apj)arently engaged in busi- ness, and as he was in the act of doing so, he over- heard Clievydale saying — “No, no, I shall always see my tenants.” Bryan made his obeisance in his own plain way, and CheA^ydale said — “ Are you M’Mahon of Ahadarra? ” “I am, sir,” replied Bryan. “I thought you were a much older man,” said Chevydale, “there certainly must be some mistake here,” he added, looking at Fethertonge. “M’Ma- hon of Ahadarra was a middle-aged man several 3’ears ago, but this person is young enough to be his main” “You speak of his uncle,” replied Fethertonge, “ who is dead. This young man, who nows owns his uncle’s farm, is son to Thomas M’Mahon of Carriglass. How is your father, M’Mahon ? I hope he bears up well under his recent loss.” “Indeed but poorly, sir,” replied Bryan, “I feai he’ll never be the same man.” Chevydale here took to reading a newspaper, and 294 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. in a minute or two appeared to be altogether uncon- geious of Bryan’s presence. “ Tm afeard, sir,” said Bryan, addressing himself to the agent, who was the only person likely to hear him, “ I’rn afeard sir, that I’ve got into trouble.” “ Into trouble ? liow is that ? ” “Why, sir, there was a Still, Head, and Worm, found upon Ahadarra, and I’m going to be fined for it.” “ M’Mah on,” replied the agent, “I am sorry to hear this, both on your own account, and* that of your family. If I don’t mistake, you were cautioned and warned against this; but it was useless; yes, I am sorry for it ; and for you, too.” “ I don’t properly understand you, sir,” said Bryan. “Did I not myself forewarn you against having anything to do in matters contrary to the law ? You must remember I did, and on the very last occasion too when you were in my office.” “I remember it right well, sir,” replied Bryan, “ and I say now as I did then, that I am not the man to break the law, or have act or part in any- thing that’s contrary to it. I know nothing about this business, except that three ruffianly looking fellows named Ilogan, common tinkers, and common vagabonds too boot — men that are my enemies — are the ptu-sons by all accounts who set up the still on iiiy property. As for myself, I had no more to do in it or with it than yourself or Mr. Chev^'dale here.” « “ Well,” replied Fethertonge, “I hope not. I THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 295 slioiild feel much disappointed if you had, but you knov\^, Bryan,” he added good-lmmoredly, “ we could scarcely expect that you should admit such a piece of folly, not to call it by a harsher name.” ‘‘If I had embarked in it,” replied McMahon, “ I sartiiily would not deny it to you or Mr. Chevydale at least; but as I said before, I know nothing more about ir, than simply it was tliese ruffians and a fel- low named Pliats, a Distiller, that set it a-working — however the question is what am I to do ? If 1 must pay the fine for the whole townland, it will beggar me — ruin me. It was that brought me to my landlord here,” he added ; “ I believe, sir, you have a brother a Commissioner of Excise ? ” “Eh? what is that?” asked Chevydale, looking up suddenly as Bryan asked the question. M’Mahon was obliged to repeat ail the circum- stances once more, as did Featherton^e the warnins: lie had given him against having any connexion with illegal proceedings. “I am to get a memorial drawn up to-morrow, sir,” proceeded Bryan, “and I was thinking that by giving the Board of Excise a true statement of the case, they might reduce the fine ; if they don’t I am ruined — that's all.” “ Ct'rtainly,” said his landlord, “ that is a very good course to take ; indeed your only course.” “ I hope, sir,” proceeded Bryan, “ that as you now know the true circumstances of tlie case, you'll be kind enough to support my petition ; I believe your brother, sir, is one of the Commissioners; you would sarlinly be able to do something with him.” 296 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “No,” replied Chevydale, “I would not ask any- thing from him ; but 1 shall suj)port your Petition, and try what I can do with the other Comniis- sioners. On principle, however, I make it a point never to ask anyildng from my brother.” “ Will I bring you the Petition, sir ? ” asked Bryan. “ Fetch me the Petition.” “And Bryan,” said Fethertonge, raising his finger at him as if by w^ay of warning — and laughing — “ hark ye, let tiiis be the last.” “ Feihertonge,” said the landlord, “ I see Pratt has been found guilty, and the sentence confirmed by the Commander-in-Chief.” “You will insist on it,” said Bryan in reply to the agent, “ but — ” “There now, M’Mahon,” said the latter, “that will do ; good day to you.” “ I think it is a very harsh sentence, Fethertonge ; will you touch the bell ? ” “ I don’t know sir,” replied the other, ringing as he spoke; “Neville’s testimony was very strong against him, and the breaking of the glass did not certainly look like sobriety.” “ I had one other word to say, gentlemen,” added M’Mahon, “if you’ll allow me, now that Pm here.” Fethertonge looked at him with a face, in which might be read a painful but friendly rebuke for persisting to speak, after the other had changed the subject. “I rather think Mr. Chevydale would prefer hearing it some other time, Bryan.” “But you know the proverb, sir,” said Bryan, THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 297 emilinfr, ‘nbat there’s no lime like the present ; be- sides it’s only a word.” “ What is it ?” asked the landlord. “About the leases, sir,” replied M'Mahon, “to know when it would be convanient for you to sign them.” Chevydale looked from Bryan to the agent, and again from the agent to Bryan, as if anxious to ntidersland wiiat the allusion to leases meant. At this moment a servant entered, saying, “The horses are at the door, gentlemen.” “ Come some other day, M’Mahon,” said Fether- tonge ; “ do you not see that we are going out to ride now — going on our canvass? Come to my office some other day ; Mr. Chevydale will remain for a considerable time in the country now, and yea need not feel so eager in the matter.” “Yes, come some otlier day, Mr. —w- Mr. — ay- - M'Mahon, if there are leases to sign of course I shall sign them; I am always anxious to do my duty as a landlord. Come, or rather Fethertonge here will manage it. You know I transact no business liere ; everything is done at his office, unless when he brings me papers to sign. Of course I sliallsign any necessary ])aper.” Bryan then withdrew after having received anotli- er friendly nod of remonstrance which seemed to say, “Why will you thus persist, wfjen you see that he is not disposed to enter into these matters noy ? Am not I your friend ?” Still, however, he did not i eel perfectly at ease with the result of his visit A 298 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. slight sense of uncertainty and doubt crept over him, and in spite of every effort at confidence, he found that, tliat which he had placed in Fethertonge, if it did not diminish, was most assuredly not be- coming stronger. » THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 299 CHAPTER XVL A SPAR BETWEEN KATE AND PHILIP HOGAN - BRYAN M MAHON IS CAUTIONED AGAINST POLITICAL TEMP- TATION— HK SEEKS MAJOR VANSTON’S INTEREST WITH THE BOARD OF EXCISE. The eonseqiiences of t)ie calamity which was hang- ing over Bryan M’Maiiou’s head, had become now pretty well understood, and occasioned a very general and profound sympathy for the ruin in wliich it was likely to involve liim. Indeed, almost every one appeared to feel it more than he himself did, and many, who on meeting him were at first disposed to offer him consolation, changed their pur pose on witnessing his cheerful and manly bearing under it. Throughout the whole country, there was but one family, with another exception, that felt gratitied at the blow which had fallen on liim. The exception we speak of was no other than Mr. Hycy Burke, and the family was that of the Hogans. As for Teddy Phats, he was not the man to trouble himself by the loss of a moment’s indifference upon any eartldy or other suV>ject, saving and excepting alv\ ays that it involved the death, mutilation, or de- struction in some shape, of Ids great and relentless foe, the Gauger, whom he looked upon as the imper- sonation of all that is hateful and villanous in life, and only sent into this world to war witli human happiness at large. That great Professional Instinct, as the French say, and a strong unaccountable dis- 800 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. relish of Ilycy Burke, were the only two feelings that disturbed the hardened indiflference of his nature. One night shortly after Bryan’s visit to his land- lord, the Hogans and Phats were a^Stinlbled in the kiln between the hours of twelve and one o’clock, after having drunk nearly tiiree quarts of wiiisky among them. The young savages, as usual, after the vagabond depredations or njischievous exercises of the day, were snoring as we have described ihem before; when Teddy, whom no quantity of liquor could affect beyond a mere inveterate hardm ss of brogue and an indescribable effort at mirth and melody, exclaimed — ‘‘Pwhy, dhen, dat’s the stuff; and here’s bad luck to him that paid fwhor it ! ” “I’ll not drink it, you ugly keout^'^ exclaimed Philip, in his deep and ruffianly voice ; “ but come — all o’ yez fill up and drink rail toast. Come, Kate, you crame of hell’s delights, fill till I give it. No,” he added abruptly, “I won’t drink that, you lepre- chaun; the man that ped for it is Hycy Biirke, and I like llycy Burke for one thing, and Pll not dhrink bad luck to him. Come, are yez ready ? ” “Give it out, you hulk,” said Kate, “an’ don’t keep us here all night over it.” “ Here, then,” exclaimed the savage, with a grin of ferocious mirth, distoning his grim colossal features into a smile that was frightful and ifdiuman — “Here’s may Bryan M’Mahon be soon a Beggar, an’ all his breed the sarne ! Dririk it now, all o’ yez, or, by the mortal counthryman, Pll brain the first that’ll reluse it.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 301 The threat, in this case, was a drunken one, and on that very account the more dangerous. “Well,” said Teddy, “I don’t like to drink it; but if—” llonomondlaiil! you d — d disciple,” thundered the giant, “ down wid it, or 111 split your skull ! ” Teddy had it down ere the words were concluded. “ What!” exclaimed Hogan, or rather roared again, as he fastened his blazing eyes on Kate — “ what, you yalla mullotty, do you dar to refuse ? ” “Ay do I dar to refuse! — an’ I’d see you fizzin’ on the devil’s fryiu’-pan, where you’ll tiz yet, afore I’d dhrink it. Come, come,” she replied, her eye blazing now as fiercely as his own, “ keep qui t, I bid you — keep calm; you ought to know me now I thiidc.” “ Drink it,” he shouted, “ or I’ll brain you.” “Howl him,” said Teddy — “howl him; there’s murdher in his eye. My soul to happiness but he’ll kill her.” “Will he, indeed?” said Bat, with a loud laugh, in which he was joined by Ked — “ will he, indeed ? ” they shouted. “Go on, Kate, you’ll get fair play if you want it — his eye, Teddy ! ay, but look at hers^ man alive — look at lier altogether!’ Go on, Kate- more power ! ” Teddy, on looking at her again, literally retreated a lew paces from sheer terror of the tremendous and intrepid fury who now stood before him. It was then for the first time that he observed the liuge bones and immense muscular development that stood out into terrible strength by the force of her rising 302 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. passion. It was the eye, however, and the features of the face which filled him with suc.h an accountable dread. The eyes were literally blazing, and the muscles of the face, now cast into an expression which seemed at the same time to be laughter and fury, were wrought up and blended togetlu r in such a way as made the very countenance terrible by the emanation of murder which seemed to break from every feature of it. ‘‘ Drink it, I say again,” shouted Philip. Kate made no reply, bat, walking over to where he stood, she looked closely into his eyes, and said with grinding teeth — “ Not, if it was to save you from the gallows, wdiere you’ll swing yet; but listen.” As she spoke her w^ords were hoarse and low, there was a volume of powerful strength in her voice wdiich stunned one like the roar of a lioness. “Here,” she exclaimed, her voice now all at once rising or rather shooting up to a most terrific scream — “ here’s a disgraceful death to Hycy Burke ! and may all that’s good and prosperous in tlds world, ay, and in the next, attend Bryan M’Mahon, the honest man ! Now, Philip, my man, see how I drink them both.” And, having concluded, she swallowed the glass of whisky, and again drawing her face within an inch of his she glared right into his eyes. “ Howl me,” he sliouted, “ or I’ll sthrike, an’ we’ll have a death in the house.” She raised one hand and weaved it behind her, as an intimation that they should not interfere. The laughter of the brothers now passed all THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 303 bounds. “No, Kate, go on — we won’t interfere. You liad better seize him,” “No,” she replied, “let him begin first, if he dar.” “ Howl me,” shouted Pliilip, “ she’ll only be killed.” Another peal of laughter was the sole reply given to this by tiie brothers. “He’s goin’,” they ex- claimed, “he’s gone — the white fedher’s in him — it’s all over wid him — he’s afeerd of her, an’ not for notliing either — ha! ha! ha! more power, Kate ! ” Stung by the contemptuous derision contained in this language, Philip was stepping back in order to give liimself ]>roper room for a blow, when, on the very instant that he moved, Kate, uttering something between a howl and a yell, dashed her huge hands into his throat — which was, as is usual with tinkers, without a cravat — and in a moment a desperate and awful struggle took place betw^eeu them. Strong as Philip was, he rounerdition by a blasted w'oman. She’s a devil, I say ; for the last ten minutes I seen nothin’ but tire, fire, fire, as red as blazes, an’ I hard somethin’ yellin’, yellin’, in my ears.” “Ay ! ” r plied Kate, “ I know you did — tliat w^as the (ire of lu ll you seen, ready to resave you; an’ the noise you hard was the voices of the devils that THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 307 wor comia’ for your sowl — ay, an’ the voices of the two wives you munlhered — take care then, or I’ll send you sooner to hell than you dlirame of.” The scowl which she had in return for this threat was beyond all description. “Oh, I have done wid you,” he replied; “you’re not right, I say — but never mind, I’ll put a pin in M’Mahon’s collar for this — ay ^^ill I.” “ Don't ! ” siie exclaimed in one fearful monosylla- ble, and then she added in a low condensed whisper, “or if you do, mark the consequence.” “ Trot, Phil,” said Teddy, “ I thiiik you needn’t tlirouble your head about M’Mahon — he’s done fvvhor.” “An’ mark me,” said Kate, “I’ll take care of the man that done for him. I know him well, betther than he suspects, an’ can make him sup sorrow when- ever I like — an’ would too, only for one thing.” “An’ f what’s dhit wan tiling?” asked Pliats. “ You’ll know it wlien you’re ouldiier, may be,” replied Kate; “but you must be onldher first — [ can keep my own secrets, tluuik God, an’ will, too — only mark me all o’ yez ; you know well what I am — let no injury come to Bryan M'Mahon. For the sake of one person he must be safe.” “ Well,” observed Teddy, “let us hear no more about them ; it’s all settled that we are to set up in Glen Dearg above again — for this Ilycy, — who’s Sthrivin’ to turn the penny where he can.” “It is,” said Bat; “ an’ to-morrow night, let us bring the things up — this election will sarve us at any rate — but who will come in ?”* * That is, be reiurned. 308 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. ‘^The villain of hell !” suddenly exclaimed Kate, as if to herself; ‘‘to go to ruin the young man! That girl’s breakin’ her heart for what has hap- pened.” “ What are you talkin’ about ? ” asked her hus- band. “ Nothing, ” she replied; “only if you all intend to have any rest to-night, throw yourselves in the shake-down there, an’ go sleep. I’m not to sit up the whole night here, I hope?” Philip, and Ned, and Teddy, tumbled themselves into the straw, and in a few minutes were in a state of perfect oblivion. “ Hycy Burke is a bad boy, Bat,” she said, as the husband was about to follow tiieir exatnple; “but he is marked — I’ve set my mark upon him.” “You appear to know something particular about him,” observed her husband. “ Maybe I do, an’ maybe I don’t,” she replied ; “but I tell you, he’s marked — that’s all — go to bed now.” He tumbled after the rest, Kate stretched herself in an opposite corner, and in a lew minutes this sa- vage orchestra was in full chorus. What an insoluble enigma is woman ! From the specimen of feminine delicacy and modest diffidence whicli we have just presented to the reader, who would imagine that Kate Hogan was capable of entering into the deep and rooted sorrow which Kathleen Cavanagh experienced when made acquainted with tlie calamity which was about to crush her lover. Yet so it was. In truth this fierce THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 309 and furious woman who was at once a thief, a liar, a drunkard, and an* impostor, liardened in wicked- ness and deceit, had in spite of ali this a heart caj)- able of virtuous aspirations, and of loving what was exctllent and good. It is true she was a hypocrite herself, yet she detested Ilycy Burke for his treach- ery. Slie was a thief and a liar, yet she liked and respected Bryan M’Mahon for his truth and honesty. Her heart, however, was not all depraved ; and, in- deed, it is difficult to meet a woman in whose dispo- sition, however corrupted by evil society, and de- graded by vice, there is not to be found a portion of the angelic essence still remaining. In the case be- fore us, however, this may be easily accounted for. Kate Hogan, though a hell-cat and devil, when pro- voked, was amidst all her hardened violence and general disregard of truth and honesty, a virtuous woman and a faitliful wife. Hence her natural re- gard for mucii that was good and ]>ure, and her strong sympatliy with the sorrow which now fell upon Kathleen Cavanagh. Kathleen and her sister had been sitting sewing at the parlor window, on tlte day Bryan had the interview we have detailed with Chevydale and the agent, when they heard their father’s voice inquiring for Hanna. “ He has been at Jemmy Burke’s, Kathleen,” said her sister, ‘‘ and I’ll wager a nosegay, if one could get one, that he has news of this new sweet- heart of yours; he’s bent, Kathleen,” she added, to have you in Jemmy Burke’s family, cost what it may.” 310 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “So it seems, TIanna.” “They say Edward Burke is still a finer- looking young lellovv than ilyey. Now Katlileen,” she added, laugliing, “ if you should spoil a priest aflher all ! Well ! unlikelier things have hap- pened.” “ That may be,” replied Kathleen, “ but this vi^on’t happen for all that, Hanna. Go, there he’s calling for you again.” “ Yes — yes,” she shouted ; “ throth, among you all, Kathleen, you're making a regular go-between of me. JNly father thinks I can turn you round my fitiger, and Bryan M’Halion thinks — yes, I’m goin’,” she answered again. “Well, keep up your spirits ; I’ll soon have news for you about this spoil- ed priest.” “Poor Hanna,” thought Kathleen; “where was there ever such a sister ? She dvjes all she can to keep my spirits up ; but it can’t be. How can I see him ruined and beggared, that had the high spirit and the true heart ?” Hanna, her father, and mother held a tolerably long discussion together, in which Kathleen could only hear the tones of their voices occasionally. It was evident, however, by the emphatic intonations of the old couple, that they were urging some cer- tain point, which her faiihlul sister was deprecating, sometimes, as Kathleen could learn, by serii>us- ness, and at other times by mirth. At length she returned with a countenance combating between seriousness and jest ; the seriousness, however, pre- dominating. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 311 “Kathleen,” said she, “you never had a difficulty before you uiiLil now. Tney liaven’t left me a h g to stand upon. Honest Jemmy never had any wish to make Edward a priest, and l)e tells my father that it was all a trick of the wife to get everything for her favorite; and he’s now determined to disap- point them. What will you do ?” “What would you recommend me?” asked Kath- leen, looking at her with something of her own mood, for although her brow was serious, yet there was a slight smile upon her lips. “ Why,” said the frank and candid girl, “ certain- ly to run away with Bryan M’Malion ; that, you know, would settle everything.” “ Would it settle my father’s heart,” said Kath- leen, “and my mother’s? — would it settle my own character ? — would it be the step that all the world would expect from Kathleen Cavanagh ? — and putting all the world aside, would it be a step that I could take in the sight of God, my dear Ilrinna?” “Katlileen, forgive me, darlin’,” said her sister, throwing her arms about her neck, and laying her head upon her shoulder; “ I’m a foolish flighty crea- ture ; indeed, I don’t know what’s to be done, nor I can’t advise you. Come out and walk about ; the day’s dry an’ fine.” “ If your head makes fifty mistakes,” said her sis- ter, “your heart’s an excuse for them all; but you don’t make any mistakes, Hanna, when you’re in earnest ; instead of tiiat your head’s worth all our heads put together. Come, now.” 312 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. They took the Carriglass road, but had not gone far when they im t Dora M’Maiion who, as slie said, ‘‘ came down to ask tliem up a while, as the house was now so lonesome and she added, wdih artless naivete, “I don’t know how it is, Kathleen, V>ut I love you better now than I ever did before. Ever since my darlin’ motlier left us, I caidt look upon you as a stranger, and now tliat poor Bryan’s in dis- tress, my heart clings to you more and more.” Hanna, the generous Hanna’s eyes partook of the albction and admiration which beatned in Dora’s, as they rested on Kathleen ; but notwithstanding this, she was about to give Dora an ironical chiding lor omitting to say anything gratifying to herself, when haj)pening to look back, she saw Bryan at the turn of the road approaching them. “ Here’s a friend of ours,” slm exclaimed; “no less than Bryan M’Mahon himself. Come, Dora, we can’t go up to Carriglass, but we’ll walk back with you a piece o’ the way.” Bryan, who was then on his return from Chevy- dale’s, soon joined them, and they proceeded in the direction of his father’s, Dora and Hanna having, Avith good-humored consideration, gone forward as an advanced guard, leaving Bryan and Kathleen to enjoy their tete-a tete behind them. “Dear Kathleen,” said Bryan, “I was very anxious to see you. You’ve h’ard of this unfortu- nate business that has come upon me ?” “ I have,” she replied, “ and I need not say that I’m sorry for it. Is it, or will it be as bad as they report ?” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 313 “Worse, Kathleen. I will have the fine for all Ahadarra to pay myself.’' ‘‘13ut can nothing be done? Wouldn’t they let you off when I hey come to hear that, although the Still was found upon your land, yet it wasn’t yours, nor it wasn’t you that was usin’ it ?” “I don’t know how that may be. Ilycy Burke tells me that they’ll be apt to reduce the fine, if I send them a petition or memorial, or whatever they call it, an’ he’s to have one written for me to- morrow.” “ I’m afraid Hycy’s a bad authority for anybody, Bryan.” “I don’t think you do poor ITycy justice, Kath- leen; he’s not, in my opinion, so bad as you think him. I don’t know a man, nor I haven’t met a man that’s sorrier for what has happened me. lie came to see me yesterday, and to know in what way he could serve me, an’ wasn’t called upon to do so.” “ I hope you’re right, Bryan ; for why should I wish Ilycy Burke to be a bad man, or why should I Tvish him ill ? I may be mistaken in him, and I hope I am.” “ Indeed, I think you are, Kathleen ; he’s wild a good dt^al, I grant, and has a spice of mischief in him, and many a worthy young fellow has both.” ‘‘ That’s very true,” she replied ; “ however, we have hard bad enough of him. There’s none of us what we ought to be, Bryan. If you’re called upon to pay this fine, what will be the consequence?” 14 314 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHAOARRA. “ Why, that I’ll have to give up my farm— that I won’t be left worth sixpence.’’ “ Who put the still up in Ahadarra ? ” she inquir- ed. Js it true that it was the Hogan’s ?” “Indeed I believe there’s no doubt about it,” he replied ; “since I left the landlord’s, I have hard what satisfies me that it was them and Teddy Phats.” Kathleen paused and sighed. “ They are a vile crew,” she added, after a little ; “ but be they what they may, they’re faithful and honest, and affection- ate to our family ; an’ that, I believe, is the only good about them. Bryan, I am very sorry for this hiisfortune that has come upon you. I am sorry for your own sake.” “ And I,” replied Bryan, “ am sorry foi’ — I was goin’ to say — yours ; but it would be, after all, for my own. I haven’t the same thoughts of you now, dear Kathleen.” She gazed quickly, and with some surprise at him, and asked, “Why so, Bryan ?” “ I’m changed — I’m a ruined man,” he replied ; “ I had bright hopes of comfort and happiness — hopes that I doubt will never come to pass. However,” he added, recovering himself, and assuming a look of cheerfulness, “ who knows if everything will turn out so badly as we fear? ” “That’s the spirit you ought to show,” returned Kathleen ; “ You have before you the example of a good father; don’t be cast down, nor look at the dark side ; but you said you had not the same thoughts of me just now; I don’t understand you.” THE EMIGHANtS OF AHAt)ARHA. S16 “ Do you think,” he replied, with a smile, ‘‘ that I nu anl to say my aftVciion for } ou was changed ? Oh, no, Kathleen ; but that my situation is cliung- ed, or soon will be so; and that on that account we can’t be the same thing to one another that we have been.” “ Bryan,” she replied, “ you may always depend upon this, tliat so long as you are true to your Ood and to yourst If, I will be true to you. Depend upon this, ojive and foievei.” “ Kathleen, that’s like yourself, but I could not think of bringing you to shame.” He paused, and turning his eyes full upon her, added — “I’m allow in’ myself to sink again. Everything w ill turn out bet- ter than w’e think, plaise God.” “1 hope so,” she added, “ but whatever happens, Bryan, do you aUays act an open, honest, manly jtart, as 1 know you will do; act always so as that }Our conscience can’t accuse you, or make you feel lliat you have done anytldng that is wrong, or uu* worthy, or disgraceful ; and then, dear Bryan, wel- come poverty may you say, as I will welcome Bryan M M.ihon W'itli it.” Botij had paused for a little on their way, and stooii for about a minute moved by the interest whicli each felt in w hat the other uttered. As Bry- an’s eye rested on the noble features and command- ing figure of Kathleen, he was somewhat startled by tiie glow^ of enthusiasm w hich lit both her eye and lier cheek, ah hough he w as too unskilled in the manilestations of character to know that it was en- thusiasm she felt. 316 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. They then proceeded, and after a short silence Bryan observed — “ Dear Kathleen,! know ihevabie of the advice you are giving me, but will you let me ask if you ever seen anything in my conduct, or heard anything in my conversation, that makes you think it so necessary to give it to me ? ” “ If I ever had, Bryan, it’s not likely I’d be here at your side tlds day to give it to you ; but you’re now likely to be brought into trials and difficulues — into temptation — and it is then that you may think maybe of what I’m say in’ now-” “Well, Kathleen,” he replied, smiling, “ you’re determined at all events that the advice will come before the temptation; but, indeed, my own dearest girl, my heart tliis moment is proud when I think that you are so full of truth, an’ feel in’, aud regard for me, as to* give me such advice, and to be able to give it. But still I hope I won’t stand in need of it, anti tiiat if the temptations you spoke of come in my way, I will Imve your advice — a\', an’ I trust in God tile adviser too — to direct me.” “ Are you sure, Bryan,” and she surveyed liim closely as she spoke — “ are you sure that no f>art of the temptation has come across you already ?” He looked surprised as she asked him this singular question. “ I am,” said he ; “ but, dear Kathleen, I can’t rightly understand you. What temptations do you mane ? ” “ Have you not promised to vote for INIr. Vanston, the Tory candidate, who never in his life voted for your religion or your liberty ?” “ Do you mane me, dearest Kathleen ? ” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 317 Toil, certainly ; who else could I mean when I ask you the question “ Why, I never promised to vote for Vans! on,’* he replied ; “ an’ what is more — but who said 1 did ?” “ On the day before yesterday,” she proceeded, ‘‘two gentlemen came to our house to canvass votes, and they stated plainly lliat you had promised to vote for them — that is for Vanston.” “Well, Kathleen, all I can say is, that the state- ment is not true. I didn't promise for Vanston, and they did not even ask me. Are you sati^'^tied now ? or whether will you believe them or me ?” “I am satisfied, dear Bryan; I am more than satisfied ; for my heart is easy. Misfortune ! what signifies mere misfortune, or the loss of a beggarly farm?” “ But, my darling Kathleen, it is anytliing but a beggarly farm.” Kathleen, however, heard liim not, but proceeded. “What signifies poverty, Bryan, or struggle, so long as the heart is right, and the conscience clear and without a spot? Nothing— oh, nothing ! As God is to judge me, I would rather beg my bread w ith you as an honest man, true, as I said awhile ago, to your God and your religion, than have an estate by your side, if you could prove false to either.” The vehemence w^ith wdiich she uttered these sen- timents, and the fire which animated her w hole mind and manner, caused them to pause again, and Bryan, to whom this high enthusiasm w^as perfectly new, now saw w’ith something like w^onder, that the tears were flowing down her cheeks. 318 THE EMiaRANTS OP AHADARRA. lie caught her hand and said, “My own darling Kathleen, the longer I know you the more I see your value; but make your mind easy; wdien I be- come a traitor to either God or my religion, you may renounce me ! ’ “ Don't be surprised at these tears, Bryan ; don’t, my dear Bryan ; for you may look upon tliem as a proof of how much I love you, and what I would feel if the man I love should do anything unwor- thy, or treacherous, to his religion or his suffering country.” “ How could I,” he replied, “ with my own dear Kathleen, that will be a guardian angel to me, to advise and guide me? Well, now that your mind is aisy, Kathleen, mine I think is brighter too. I have no doubt but we’ll be happy yet — at least I trust in God we will. Who know^s but everything may prove betlher than our expectations; and as you say, they may make a poor man of me, and ruin me, but so long as I can keep my good name, and am true to my country, and my God, I can never com- plain.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 319 CHAPTER XVII. INTERVIEW BETWEEN HYCY AND FINIGAN— THE FOR- MER PROPOSES FOR MISS CLINTON — A LOVE SCENE. IIycy, after his conversation with Bryan M’Ma- hon, lelt satisfied that he had removed all jjossihle 8us|)icion from himself, but at the same time he ran- sackefi hivS mind in order to try who it was that had be- trayed him to Bryan. The Hogans he had no reason to suspect, because from experience he knew them to be possessed of a desperate and unscrupulous fidelity, in excellent keeping with their savage character ; and to suspect Teddy Phats was to su])pose that an inveterate and incurable smuggler would inform upon him. After a good deal of cogitation, he at length came to the conclusion that the schoolmaster, Finigan, must have been the traitor, and with this impression he resolved to give tiiat worthy person- age a call upon his way home. He found him as usual at full work, and as usual also, in that state which is commonly termed imlf drunk, a state, by the way, in which the learned pedagogue generally contrived to keep himself night and day. Hycy did not enter his establishment, but after having called him once or twice to no purpose — for such was the din of the school that his voice could not penetrate it — he at length knocked against the half open door, which caused him to be both seen and heard more distinctly. On seeing him, tlie schoolmaster got to 320 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. his limbs, and was about to address him, when Hycy said — “Finigan, I wish to speak a few words to you.” “ O’Finigan, sir — O’Finigan, Mr. Burkf\ It is enough, sir, to be deprived of our hereditary terri- tories, without being clipped of our names ; they should lave us those at all events unmutilated. O’- Finigan, therefore, Mr. Burke, whenever you address me, if you plaise.” ‘‘Well, Mr. O’Finigan,” continued Hycy, “if not inconvenient, I should wish to speak a few words wdth you.” “No inconvenience in the world, Mr. Burke; I am alwaj-8 disposed to oblige my friends whenever I can do so wid propriety. My advice, sir, my friend- ship, and my purse, are always at their service. My advice to guide tliem — my friendsiiip to sustain — and my purse — hem! — ha, ha, lia — I think I may clap a payriod or full stop there,” he added, laugh- ing, “inasmuch as the last approaches very near to what philosophers term a vacuum or non en-ity. Gintlemen,” he proceeded, addressing the schol ars, “I am going over to Lanty Ilanratty’s for a while to enjoy a social cup wid Mr. Burke here, and as that fact will cause the existence of a sliort inter- regnnm^ I now publicly appoint Gusty Carney as my locum tenens until I resume llio reins of govern- ment on my return. Gusty, put the names of all cftenders down on a slate, and when I return ‘ con- dign'* is the word; an’ see, Gusty — mark me well — no bribery — no bread nor buttons, nor any other materials of corruption from the culprits — otherwise THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 321 yon shall become their substitute in the castigation, and 1 all all teach you to look one way and feel anotiier, my worthy con-disciple.” ‘•Now, Finigan — I beg yonr pardon — O'Finigan,” said Hycy, when they were seated in the little back tap-room of the pnV)lic-honse with refreshments be- fore them, “ I tliink I have reason to be seriously displeased with you,” “ Displeased wid me ! ” exclaimed his companion ; “ and may I take the liberty to interrogate where- fore, Mr. Ilycy ? ” “You misrepresented me to Bryan M’Mahon,’ said Hycy. “ Upon what grounds and authority do you spake, sir?” asked Finigan, whose dignity was beginning to take offence. “I have good grounds and excellent authority for what I say,” replied Hycy. “You have aeted a very dishonorable part, Mr. Finigan, and the con- sequence is that I have ceased to be your friend.” “ I act a dishonorable part. Wliy, sir, I scorn the imputation ; but how have I acted a dishonora- ble pan? that’s the point.” “ You put Bryan M'Mahon upon his guard against me, and consequently left an impression on his mind that I was his enemy.” “ Well,” said the other, with a good deal of irony, “that is good! Have I, indeed ? And pray, Mr. Burke, who says so ? ” “I have already stated that my authority for it is good.” “But you must name your authority, sir; no 822 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. lurking assassin shall be permitted wid impunity to stab my fair reputation wid the foul dagger of calumny and scandal. Name your authority, sir.” “ I could do so.” “Well, sir, why don’t you? Let me liear the name of the illiterate miscreant, whoever he is, that has dared to tamper wid my unblemished fame.” “All I ask you,” continued Hycy, “ is to candidly admit the fact, and state why you acted as you did.” “ Name your authority, sir, and then I shall speak. Perhaps I did, and perhaps I did not; but when you name your authority I shall then give you a more satisfactory reply. That’s the language — the elevated language — of a gentleman, Mr. Burke.” “My authority ti)en is no other than Bryan M’- Mahon liimself,” replied Hycy, “ who told me that he was cautioned against me; so that I hope you’re now satisfied.” “ Mr. Burke,” replied Finigan, assuming a lofty and impressive manner, “ I have known the M’Ma- hons for better than forty years; so, in fact, has the country around them ; and until the present moment I never heard that a deliberate falseiiood, or any breach of truth whatsoever, was imputed to any one of them. Tom M'Mahon’s simple word was never doubted, and would pass aquil to many a man’s oath ; and it is the same thing wid the whole family, man and woman. They are proverb! il, sir, for trutli and integrity, and a most spontaneous effusion of candor under all circumstances. You will pardon me then, Mr. Hycy, if I avow a trifle of heresy in this matter. THE EMIGPwANTS OF AHADARHA. 828 You are yourself, wid great respect be it spoken, soiuetiriies said to sport your imagination occasion- ally, and to try your hand wid considerable success at a lapsus veritatis. Pardon me, then. It I think it somewhat more probable that you liave just now- stated what an ould instructor of mine used to call a moral thumper; excuse‘me, I say; and at all events I liave the pleasure of drinking your health ; and if my conjecture be appropriate, here’s also a some- what closer adhesion to the veritas aforesaid to you ! ” “Do you mean to insinuate that I’m stating what is not true ? ” said Burke, assuming an offended look, which, however, he did not feel, “No sir,” replied Finigan, retorting liis look with one of indignant scorn, “ far be it from me to insin- uate any such thing. I broadly, and in all the lati- tudinarianism of honest indignation assert, that it is a d — d lie, begging your pardon, and drinking to your moral improvement a second time; and ere you respond to what I’ve said, it would be as well, in order to have tlie matter copiously discussed, if you ordhered in a fresh supply of liquor, and help yourself, for if the proverb be true — in vino veritas — tliere it is again, but truth will be out you see — who knows but we may come to a th rifle of it from you yet ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! Excuse the jest, Mr, Ilycy. You remember little Horace, — “ ‘ Quid vetat ridentein dlcere verum? ’ ” “Do you meau to say, sirra,” said Hycy, “that I’ve stated a lie?” 824 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “ I mean to say that whoever asserts that I mis- represented you in any way to Bryan M’Mahon, or ever cautioned him against you, slates a lie of the first magnitude — a moral thumper of gigauiic di- mensions.” “ Well will you tell me wliat you did say to him ? ” “ What I did say,” echoed Finigan. “ Well,” he added, after a pause, during whicii he surveyed Hycy pretty closely — having now discovered tliat he was in fact only proceeding upon mere suspicion — “ I believe I must acknowledge a portion of the misrepresentation. .1 must, on secondary considera- tion, plead guilty to that fact.” “I thought as muclj,” said Hycy. “ Here then,” proceeded Finigan, with a broad and provoking grin upon his coarse but liumorous features, “here, Mr. Hycy, is w^hat 1 did say — says I, ‘Bryan, I have a word to say to you, touching an accomplished young gentleman, a friend of yours.’ ” “‘What is that?’ asked the w’orthy Bernardus. “‘It is regarding the all-accomplished Mr. Hya- cinth us Burke,’ I replied, ‘ who is a homo factm adungiiem, Mr. Burke, Bryan,’ I proceeded, ‘is a gentleman in the — hem— true sense of that word. He is generous, candid, faithful, and honest; and in association wid all his other excellent qualities he is celebrated, among the select few wdio know him best, for an extraordinary attachment to — truth.’ Now if that wasn’t misrepresentation, Mr. Hycy, I don't know what w^ as. Ila ! ha! ha!” “ You’re half drunk,” replh*d Hycy, “ or I should rather say whole drunk, I think, and scarcely know THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 325 what you’re saying; or rather, I believe youVe a bit of a knave, Mr. O’Firiigan.” ‘‘‘Thanks, sir, many thanks, for the prefix. Pro- cee(i.” “I have nothing more to add,” replied Ilycv, rising up and preparing to go. “Ay,” said Finigan, with anotlier grin, “ a bit of a knave, am I ? Well, now, isn’t it better to be only a bit of a knave than a knave all out — a knave in full proportions, from top to toe, from head to lieel — like some accomplished gentlemen that I have the honor of being acquainted wid. But in tlie mean time, now, don’t be in a hurry, man alive, nor look as if you were fatted on vinegar. Sit down again ; ordher in another libation, and I shall make a dis- closure that will be worth your waiting for.” “You sitall have the libation, as you call it, at all events,” said Ilycy, resuming his seat, but feeling at tlie same time by no means satisfied with the lark- ing grin which occasionally played over Finigan’s features. After much chat and banter, and several attempts on the part of ITycy to insinuate liirnself into the j)ed- agogue’s confidence, he at length rose to go. Ilis companion was now in that state which strongly borders on inebriety, and he calculated tliat if it were possible to worm anything out of liim, he was now in the best condition for it. Every effort, however, was in vain; whenever he pressed the schoolmaster closely, the vague blank expression of intoxication disa}>peared for a moment, and was replaced by the broad humorous ridicule, full of self-possession and 326 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. consciousness, which always chararterized Finigan, whether drunk or sober. The man was naturaliy conning, and ranked among a certain class of topers who can be made drunk to a certain extent, and upon some particular sul»jects, but who beyond that, and with these limitations, defy the influence of liquor. llycy Burke was one of those men who, with smart and showy qualities and great plausibility of manner, was yet altogether without purpose or stead- fast principle in the most ordinary affairs of life, lie had no fixed notions upon either morals, religion, or politics ; and when we say so we may a id, that he was equally witliout motive — that is, without* adequate motive, in almost everything he did. The canvass was now'' going on wdth great zeal on the part of Chevy dale and Vanston. Sometimes Ilycy was disposed to support the one and sometimes the other, but as to feeling a firm attachment to the cause or principles of either, it was not in his na- ture. Indeed the approach of a general election is at all times calculated to All the heart of a thinking man with a strong sense of shame for his kind, and of sorrow for the unreasoning and brutal tendency to slavery and degradation wdiich it exhibits. Upon this occasion the canvass, in consequence of the des- perate struggle that must ensue, owing to the equali- ty of the opposing forces, was a remarkably early one. Party fVeling and religious animosity, as is usual, ran very Ingh, each having been made the mere stalking- horse or catchword of the rival candidates, who THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 827 cared nothing, or at least very little about the mai-ses on eillier side, provi«]ed al vays that they could turn them to sbnie advantage. It was one morning after the canvass had been going forward willi great activity on both sides lor about a week, tiiat Hycy, who now fell iiiinself rath- er peculiaily placed, rode down to Clinton’s for the jmrpose of fornially paying Ids addresses to the guager’s interesting niece, and, if possible, ascertain- ing his fate from her own lips. His brother Edward had now been brought home in aeconlance with the expressed determination of his father, with whom he was, unquestionably, a manifest favorite, a circum- stance which caused Ilycy to detest Ijirn, and also de|>rived him in a great degree of his mother’s afFec- tiofis. Hycy had now resolved to pay his devoirs to Kathleen Cavatiagh, as a dernier resort^ in the eve!»t of his failing with Miss Clinton ; for, as re- garding affection, he had no earthly concepiion of what it meant. With this view he rode down to Clinton’s as we said, and met Harry coming out of the stable. ‘‘ Harry,” said he, after his horse was put up, “ I am about to ask an interview with your sister.” “ I don’t think she will grant it,” replied her brother, ‘‘ you are by no means a favorite with lier ; however, you can try ; perhaps she may. You know the old adage, ‘ varium et mntabile semper? Who knows but she may have changed her mind?” “ Is your uncle within ?” asked Hycy. “ No,” replied his nephew, “he’s gone to Fether- tonge’s upon some election business.” 328 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “ Could you not contrive,” said Hycy, to leave her and me together, then, and allov/ me to ascer- tain what I am to expect?” ^ “ Come in,” said Harry — “ never say it again. If I can I will.” Ilycy, as we have stated before, had vast confi- dence in his own powers of persuasion and general influence with women, and on this occasion his really handsome features were made vulgar by a smirk of self-conceit which he could not conceal, owing to his natural vanity and a presentiment of success that is almost ins(‘parable from persons of his class, who can scarcely look even upon the most positive and and decided rejection by a woman as coming serious- ly from her heart. Even Harry Clinton himself, though but a young man, thought, as he afterwards stated to his sister, that he never saw Hycy have so much the appearance of a puppy as upon that occa- sion. As had been proposed, he withdrew, liowever, and the lover being left in the drawing room with Miss Clinton began, with a simper that was rather coxcombical, to make allusions to the weather, but in such a way as if there was some deep but delight- ful moaning veiled under his commonplaces. At length he came directly to the point. “ But passing from the weather. Miss Clinton, to a mucii more agreeable topic, permit me to ask if you have ever turned your thoughts upon matrimony?” The hectic of a moment, as Sterne says, accom- panied by a look that slightly intimated disph'asure, or something like it, was the only reply he received for about a quarter of a minute, when she said, after THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 829 the feeling probably had passed away — “ No, indeed, Mr. Burke, I have not.” “ Come, come. Miss Clinton,” said Hycy, witli an- otlier smirk, “ tiiat won't pass. Is it not laid down by the philosophers that you think of little else from tlie time you are marriageable?” “ By what philosophers? ” “ Wliy, let me see — by the philosophers in general — ha ! ha ! ha ! ” ‘‘ I was not aware of that,” she replied ; “ but even if tiiey have so ruled it, I see no inference we can draw from that, except their ignorance of the sub- ject.-’ •‘It is so ruled, however,” said Hycy, ‘‘‘and philo- sophy is against you.” “I am willing it should, Mr. Burke, provided we have truth with us.” “Very good, indeed. Miss Clinton — that was well said ; but seriously, have you ever thought of mar- riage ? ” “Doesn’t philosophy say that we seldom think of anything else ? ” she replied, smilling. “Ask philo- sophy, then.” “ But til is really is a subject in whicli I feel a par- ticular interest — a personal interest ; but, as for philosophy, I despise it— tliat is as it is usually un- derstood. The only philosophy of life is love, and that is my d.)C trine.” “ Is tliat your only doctrine.” “Pretty nearly ; but it is much the same as that whicii appears in the world under the different dis- guises of religion.” 330 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “ I trust you do not mean to assert that love and religion are the same thing, Mr. Burke ? ” ‘^Ido; the terms are purely convertible. Love is the universal religion of man, and he is most re- ligious who feels it most; that is your only genuine piety. For instance, I am myself in a most exalted state of that same p'iety this moment, and have been so lor a considerable time past.” Miss Clinton felt a good deal embarrassed by the easy profligacy that was expressed in these senti- ments, and she made an effort to change the sub- ject. “ Are you taking part in the canvass which is go- ing on in the country, Mr. Burke?” Not much,” said he ; ‘‘ I despise politics as much as I cherish the little rosy god ; but really. Miss Clinton, I feel anxious to know your opinions on mar- riage, and you have not stated them. Do you not think the imptial state the happiest?” “It’s a subject I feel no inclination whatsover to discuss, Mr. Burke ; it is a subject, winch, personally speaking, has never occupied from me one moment’s thought; and, having said so much, I trust you will have the goodness to select some other topic for con- versation.” “But I am so circumstanced, just now,Miss Clin- ton, that I cannot really change it. The truth is, that I have felt very much attached to you for some time past — upon my wvu'd and h'>n ur I have: it’s a fact, I assure yon, Miss Clinton; and I now beg to make you a tender of myself and — and — of all I am possessed of. I am a most ardent admirer of yours ; THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 331 and the utmost extent of my ambition is to become an accepted one. Do tlien, my dear Miss Clinton, allow me the charming privilege — pray, do.’’ “ What will be the consequence il I do not ? ” she replied, smiling. “ Upon my word and honor, I shall go nearly dis- tracted, and get quite melancholy ; my happiness depends upon you. Miss Clinton ; you are a very delightful girl, quite a nonpareil, and I trust you will treat me with kindness and consideration.” “Mr. Burke,” replied the lady, “ I am much oblig- ed for the preference you express for me ; but wheth- er you are serious or in jest, I can only say that I have no notinii of matrimony ; that I have never had any notion of it; and that I can safely say, I have never seen the man whom I should wish to call my husband. You will oblige me very much, then, if ill future you forbear to introduce this subject. Consider it a forbidden one, so far as I am concerned, for I feel quite unworthy of so gifted and accom- plished a gentleman as Mr. Burke.” “You will not discard me surely. Miss Clinton ?” “ On that subject, unquestionably.” “ No, no, my dear Miss Clinton, you will not say so ; do not be so cruel ; you will distress me greatly, I assure yeu. I am very much deficient in firmness, and your cruelty will afflict me and depress my s pi I its.” “ I trust not, Mr. Burke. Your spirits are natu- rally good, and 1 have no doubt but you will ulti- mately overcome this calamity — at least I sincerely hope so.” 332 THE EMIGBANTS OF AHADAPwRA. “ Ah, Miss Clinton, you little know the heart 1 have, nor my capacity f *r feeling; my feelings, I as- sure you, are exceedingly tender, and I get quite sunk under disappointment. Come, Miss Clinton, you must not deprive me altogether of hope; it is too cruel. Do not say no forever.” The arch girl shook her head with something of mock solemnity, and replied, “ I must indeed, Mr. Burke ; the fatal no must be pronounced, and in con- nexion with for ever loo; and unless you have much virtue to sustain you, I fear you run a great risk of dying a martyr to a negative. I would fain hoj>e, however, that the virtue I allude to, and your well- known sense of religion, will support you under such a trial.” This was uttered in a tone of grave ironical sym- pathy that not only gave it peculiar severity, but intimated to Ilycy that his character was fully un- derstood. ‘‘ Well, Miss Clinton,” said he, rising with a coun- tenance in which there was a considerable struggle between self conceit and mortification, a struggle which in fact was exceedingly ludicrous in itsefiect, “ I must only hope that you probably may change your mind.” ‘‘Mr. Burke,” said she, with a grave and serious dignity that was designed to terminate the interview, “ there are subjects upon which a girl of delicacy and principle never can chaiige her mind, and this I feel obliged to say, once for all, is one of them. I am now my uncle’s housekeeper,” she added, taking up a bunch of keys, “ and you must permit me to THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 333 wish you a good morning,” saying vvliicli, with a cool but veiw polite inelinaiion of her head, she dismissed Ilycy the accon^plislied, w ho cut anything but a dig- nified figure as he vvitlidrew. “Well,” said her brother, who was reading a newspaper in the parlor, “is the report favorable ?” “No,” replied Ilycy, “anything but favorable. I fear. Marry, you have not played me fair in this business.” “How is that?” asked the other, rather quickly. “1 fear you’ve prejudiced your sister against me, and that instead of giving me a clear stage, you gave me the ‘no favor’ portion of the adage only.” “ I am not in the habit of stating a falsehood, Ilycy, nor of having any assertion I make question- ed ; I have already told you, I think, that I would not prejudice my sister against you. I now repeat that I have not done so; but I cannot account for her prejudices against you any more than I shall attempt to contradict or combat them, so far from that I now tell you, that if she were unfortunately dis|>oseJ to marry you, I would endeavor to prevent her.” “ And pray why so, Harry, if it is a fair ques- tion ? ” “ Perfeetly fair; simply because I should not wish to see my sister married to a man unburthened with any kin(i o( principle. In fact, without the slightest intention whatsoever, Ilycy, to offer you offence, I must say that you are not the man to whom I should entrust Maria’s peace and happiness; I am her only 334 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. brother, and liave a riglit to speak as I do. I consid- er it my duty.” “Certainly,’^ replied Ilycy, “if you think so, I cannot blame you ; but I see clearly that you mis- understand my character — tliat is all.” They separated in a few minutes afterwards, and Ilycy in a very serious and irritable mood rode homewards. In truth his prospects at this peculiar period were anything but agreeable. Here his love- suit, if it could be called so, had just been rejected by Miss Clinton, in a manner that utterly precluded all future hope in that quarter. With Kathleen Ca- vanagh he had been equally unsuccessful. His bro- ther Edward was now at home, too, a favorite with, and inseparable from his fatlier, who of late main- tained any intercourse that took place between him- self and Ilyey, with a spirit of cool, easy sarcasm, that was worse than anger itself. Ilis mother, also, in consequence of her unjustifiable attempts to de- fend her son’s irregularities, had lost nearly all in- fluence with her Husband, and if the latter should w^ithdraw, as he had threatened to do, the allowance of a hundred a year with which he supplied him, lie scarcely saw on what hand he could turn. With Kathleen Cavanagh and Miss Clinton he now felt equally indignant, nor did his friend Harry escape a strong poriion of his ill-will. Ilycy, not being over- burthened with either a love or praclice of truth him- self, could not for a moment yield credence to the assertion of young Clinton, that he took no steps to prejudice his sister again ^t him. lie took it for granted, therefore, that it was to his interference he THE EMIGRANTS OE AHAHARRA. 335 owed the reception he had just got, and he determin- ed in some way or other to repay him for the ill-ser- vices he had rendered liim. The feeling of doubt and uncertainty with wliich Bryan M’Mahon parted from his landlord and Feth- erionge the agent, after the interview we have al- ready described, lost none of their strength by time. Hycy’s memorial had been entrusted to Chevydale, who certainly promised to put his case strongly be- fore the Commissioners of Excise ; and Bryan at first had every reason to suppose that he would do so. Whether in consequence of that negligence of his promise, for which he was rather remarkable, or from some sinister influence that may have been exercised over him, it is difficult to say, but the fact was that Bryan had now only ten days between him and ab- solute ruin. He had taken the trouble to write to the Secretary of Excise to know if his memorial had been laid before them, and supported by Mr. Chevy- dale, who, he said, knew the circumstances, and re- ceived a reply, stating that no such memorial had been sent, and that Mr. Chevydale had taken no steps in the matter whatsoever. We shall not now enter into a detail of all the visits he Imd made to his landlord, whom he could never see a second time, however, notwithstanding repeated solicitations to that effect. Fethertonge he did see, and always was assured by him that his case was safe and in good hands. “You are quite mistaken, Bryan,” said he, “ if you think that either he or I have any intention of neglecting your affair. You know yourself, however, 336 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. that he has not a moment for anything at the pres- ent time hut this coiifounded election. Tiie contest will be a sharp one, but when it is over we will take care of you.” “Yes, but it will then be too late,” replied Bryan; “I will be then a ruined man.” “ But, rny dear Bryan, will you put no confidence in your Iriends? 1 tell you you will not be ruined. If they follow up the matter so as to injure you, we shall have the whole affair overhauled, and jus- tice done you ; otherwise we shall bring it before Parliament.” “ That may be all very well,” replied Bryan, “ but it is rather odd that he has not taken a single step in it yet.” “The memorial is before the Board,” said the other, “for some time, and we exj)ect an answer every day.” “ But I know to the contrary,” replied Bryan, “ for here is a letther from the Secretary stating that no such memorial ever came before them.” “Never mind that,” replied Feihertonge, “Ae may not have seen it. The Secretary ! Lord bless you, he never reads a tenth of the memorials that go in. Show me the letter. See there now — he did not write it at all ; don’t you see his signature is in a different hand? Why will you not put confidence in your friends, Bryan ?” “Because,” replied the independent and honest young fellow, “I don’t think theyVe entitled to it from me. They liave neglected my business very shamefully, afther having led me to think otherwise. THE EMIGRANTS or AHADARRA.' 337 I have no notion of any landlord suffering his tenant to be ruined before his face without lifting a finger to prevent it.” “Oh ! fie, Bryan, you are now losing your tem- per. I sh ill say no more to you. Still I can make allowances. However go home, and keep your mind easy, we shall take care of you, notwith- standing your ill humor. Stay — you pass Mr. Clinton’s — will you be good enough to call and tell Harry Clinton I wish to speak to him, and I will feel obliged ?” “ Certainly, sir,” replied Bryan, “ with pleasure. I wish you good morning.” “ Could it be possible,” he added, “that the hint Hycy Burke threw out about young Clinton has any truth in it — ‘ Harry Clinton will do you an in- jjiry but more he would not say. I will now watch him well, for I certainly cannot drame why he should be my enemy.” He met Clinton on the way, however, to whom he delivered the message. “ I am much obliged to you,” said he, “ I was al- ready aware of it ; but now that I have met you, M’Malion, allow me to ask if you have not entrust- ed a memorial to the care of Mr. Chevydale, in order that it might be sent up strongly supported by him to the Board of Excise ?” “ I have,” said Bryan, “and it has been sent, if I am to believe Mr. Fethertonge.” “ Listen to me, my honest friend — don’t believe Fethertonge, nor don’t rely on Chevydale, who will do nothing more nor less than the agent allows 16 358 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. him. If you depend upon either or both, you are a ruined man, and I am very much afraid you are that already. It has not been sent ; but observe that I mention this in confidence, and with an un- derstanding that, for the present, you will not name me in the matter.” “I sartinly will not,” replied Bryan, who was for- cibly struck with the truth and warmth of interest that were evident in his language and manner ; “ and here is a letter that I received this very morn- in’ from the Secretary of Excise, stating that no memorial on my behalf has been sent up to them at all.” “Ay, just so; that is the true state of the mat- ter.” “What, in God’s name, am I to do, then ?” asked Bryan, in a state of great and evident perplexity. “ I shall tell you ; go to an honest man — I don’t say, observe, that Chevydale is not honest ; but he is weak and negligent, and altogether the slave and dupe of his agent. Go to-morrow morning early, about eight o’clock, fetch another memorial, and wait upon Major Vanston ; state your case to him plainly and simply, and, my life for yours, he will not neglect you, at all events. Get a fresh memo- rial drawn up this very day.” “I can easily do that,” said Bryan, “ for I have a rough copy of the one I sent ; it was Hycy Burke drew it up.” “ Hycy Burke,” repeated Clinton, starting with surprise, “do you tell me so ?” “Sartinly,” replied the other, “ why do you ask?” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 339 Clinton sliook his liead carelessly. ‘‘Well,” he said, “I am glad of it; it is better late than never, ll v cy Biuke” — lie paused and lot>ked serious a mo- ment,— “ yes,” he added, “I am glad of it. Go now ar>d hdlow my advice, and you will have at least a chance of succeeding, arnl perhaps of defeat- ing your enemies, that is, if you have aijy.” The pressure of time rendered energy and activity necessary in the case of Bryan; and accordingly, about eight o’clock lu xt morning, l.e was seeking permission to speak to the man against whom he and his family had always conscientiously voted — because he iiad been opposed to the spiiit and prim cij)les of their religion. JNlajor Vanston heard his case with patience, in- quired more minutely into the circumstances, asked wliere Ahadarra was, the name of his landlord, and such other circumstances as were calculated to make the case clear. “ Pray, who drew up this memorial?” he asked. “ Mr. Ilycy Burke, sir,” replied J^ryan. “ Ah, indeed,” sai l he, glancing with a singular meaning at M’ Mahon. “You and Burke are intimate then?” “Why, we are, sir,” replied Bryan, “on very good terms.” “And now Mr. Burke has obliged you, I suppose, because you have obliged him ?” “Well, I don’t know that he has obliged me much,” said Bryan, “but I know that I have obliged him a good deal.” Vanston nodded and seemed satisfied. “Very 840 THE EMIGPwANTS OF AH AD ARE A. well,” he proceeded, ‘‘but, with respect to this me- morial, I can’t promise you much. Leave it with me, however, and you shall probably hear from me again. I fear we are late in point of lime; indeed I have but faint ho[)es of it altogether, and I would not recommend you to form any strong expectations from the interference of any one; still, at the same time,” he added, looking significantly at him, “ I don’t desire you to despair aliogetlier.” “He has as much notion,” thought Bryan, “of troubling his head about me or my memorial, as I have for standin’ candidate for the county. D n them all! they think of nobody but themselves 1” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 341 CHAPTER XVIir. A FAMILY DIALOGUE— AHADARRA NOT IN FOR IT — bryan’s vote. Honest Jemmy Burke, we have already said, had brought home liis second son, Edward, from school, lor the purpose of training him to agricultu- ral pursuits, having now abandoned all nolions of devoting him to tlie Church, as he wouhl have done had Hycy manifested towards him even the ordi- nary proofs of affection and respect. ‘‘ You druv me to it, Rosha,” said he to his wife ; “but ril let you both know that Pm able to be masther in my own house still. You have made your pet what he is ; but I tell you tiiat if God liasn’t said it, you’ll curse one another with biiiher hearts yet.” “Well, sure you have your own way,” replied his wife, “ but you wor ever and always self-willed and lieadstrong. However it’s all the mane blood that’s in you ; it breaks your heart to see your son a gintleman ; but in spite of your strong brogues and felt caubeen,a gentleman he is, and a gentleman he will be an’ that's all I have to say about it. You'll tache your pet to hate his brother. I'll go bail.” “No, indeed, Rosha,” he replied, “ I know my duty to God and my childre’ betther than to turn them against one another ; but it’s only a proof of m THE EMIGRANTS OF AHAETARR'A; how little you know about Edward and his warm and lovin’ heart, when you spake as you do.” This indeed was true. Edward Burke was but a short lime at home when he saw clearly how mat- ters stood in the family, lie was in fact a youth of a inost afFrctionate and generous disposition, and instead of attempting to make the breach wider, as Hyey had he been in his place would have done, he did everything in his power to put tlie parties into a good state of feeling w ith each other, and to pre- serve peace and harmony in the family. One morning, a ft^w days after llycy’s rejection by Miss Clinton, they were all at breakfast, “ the accomplished” being in one of his musical and polite moods, his father bland but sarcastic, and Edward in a state of actual pain on witnessing the wilful disrespect or rather contempt that was implied by Ilycy tow^ards his parents. “ Well, Ned,” said his father, “didn’t we spend a pleasant evenin’ in Gerald Cavanagh’s last night?- Isn’t Kathleen a darlin’.” “She is a delightful girl,” replied Edward, “it can’t be denied; indeed, I doii’i think I ever saw so b(‘autiful a girl, and as for her figure, it is perfect- perfect.” “Ay,” said the father, “and it’s she that know^s the difference between a decent sensible boy and a — ginlleman — a highflyer. She was both kind and civil to yo7/, Ned.” “ I don’t know as to the kindness,” replied Ed- ward; “but she was certainly civil and agreeable. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 43 and I don’t think it’s in her nature to be anything else.” “Except when she ought,” said his father; “but listen, Ned — dress yourself up, get a buff w^aistcoat, a green jockey coat, a riding whip, and a pair o’ shillin’ top boots, titivate yourself up like a dandy, then go to her wid lavendher water on your pocket- handkerchy, an’ you’ll see how she’ll settle you. Be my sowl, you’ll be the happy boy when you get her ; don’t you think so, Misther Ilycy ? ” “Unquestionably, Mr. Burke, when you speak you shame an Oracle ; as for Master Ned — why— I’m owre young, Tm owre young, Pm owre young to marry yet, I’m owre young, ’t would be a sin To take me from my Diddy yet.’ I think, Master Edward, the Boy-god has already taken occupation ; tlie vitiiline aftection for the fair Katsey has set in; heigho, what a delightful period of life is that soft ami licktul one of call' love, when the tongue rolls about the dripping lips, the wdiites of the eyes are turned towards the divine, the ox- eyed Kaisey, and you are ready to stagger over and blare out the otherwise unutteral>le afh'Ciion.” “Very wudl described, Ilycy, I see you have not forgotten your Homer yet; but really Kathleen Cavanagh is a perfect Juno, and has the large, liquid, soft ox-eye in perfection.” “ Let me look at yon,” said Ilycy, turning round and staring at him with a good deel of surprise; “ begad, brotluT Ned, let me ask where you got your connoisseurship upon women? eh? Oh, in the 844 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. dictionary, I suppose, where the common people say everything is to be found. Observe m<*, Mr. Burke, you are taking your worthy son out of liis proper vocation, the Ohurcii. Send him lo ‘May- newth,’ he is too good a connoisseur on beauty to be out of the Tribunal.” “ Ilycy,” replied his brother, “ these are senti- ments that do you no credit; it is ea^y to sneer at religion or those who administer it, — much easier than to praise the one, it would appear, or imitate the virtues of the other.” “Beautiful rebuke,” said Hycy, again staring at him ; “ why, Masther Edward, you are a prodigy of wonderful sense and unspotted virtue ; love has made you eloquent — “ ‘ I gaed a waefa’ gate yestreen, A gate, I fear, I’ll dearly rue, I gat rny death frae twa sweet e’en, Twa lovely e’en o’ bonnie blue, &c., &c.’ “ I am not not in love yet, Hycy, but as my father wishes to bring about a marriage between Kath- leen and myself, you know,” he added, smiling, “it will be my duty to fall in love with her as fast as I can.” “Dutiful youth ! what a treasure you will prove to a dignified and gentlemanly parent, — to a fond and doting wdfe ! Shall I however put forth my powers? Shall Hycy the accomplished interpose between Juno and the calf? What sayst thou, my most amiable maternal relative, and why siltest thou 80 silent and so sad ? ” “Indeed, it’s no wondher I would, Hycy,” replied THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA! 345 his motlier, wliom Edward’s return had cast into complete de jection, “ when I see your father striviii’ to put between Ids own childre’.” “Mt‘, llosha!” exclaimed her husband; “God forgive you for that! but when I see that one of rny childre’ won’t spake a word to me with respect or civility — no, not even in his natural voice, it is surely time for me to try if I can’t find affection in his brother.” “ Ay,” said she, “ that’s your own way of it ; but it’s easy seen tliat you’re eggin’ up Ned agin his brother, bringiii’ ill will and bad feelin’ among a family that was quiet before ; ay, an’ I suppose you’d be glad to see my heart broke too, and indeed I didn’t care it was,” and as she spoke the 'words were accompanied by sobbings and tears. “Alas!” said Hycy, still in the mock heroic — - “ where is the pride and dignity of woman? Re- member, oh maternal relative, that you are the mother of one Gracchus at least! Scorn the hydraulics, I say; abandon the pathetic; cast sorrow to the winds, and— give me another cup of tea.” Edward shook his head at him, as if remonstrating against this most undutiful and contemptuous style of conversation to his mother. “ Don’t give way to tears, my dear mother,” he said; “indeed you do my father injustice ; he has neither said nor done any- thing to turn me against Ilycy. Wliy should he ? So far from that, I know that he loves Ilycy at heart, all that he wishes is that Hycy would s[)eak to him in his natural voice, and treat him with re- spect, and the feeling that surely is due to him. 340 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA» And SO Hycy will, father; lam sure he respects and loves you in spite of this levity and afftctaiion. All we want is for each to give up a little of his own way — when you become more respectful, Hycy, my father’s manner will change too: let us be at least sincere and natural with each other, and JLhere is nothing that I can see to prevent us from living very happily,” “I have some money saved,” said Burke, turning to his wife — ‘‘a good penny — -too, raore^ than the world thinks; and I declare to my God I would give it twice over if I could hear that young man,” pointing to Hycy, “speak these words with the same heart and feelings of him that spoke them; but I fear that ’ud be a hopeless wish on my part, an’ ever will.” “No, father,” said Edward, “ it will not. Hycy and you will soon understand one another. Hycy will see what his duty towmrds you is, and, sooner than be the means of grieving your heart, he will change the foolish and thoughtless habit that offends you.” “ Well, Edward may God grant it,” exclaimed his father, rising up from breakfast, “ and that’s all I have to say — God grant it ! ” “Why, Sir Oracle, junior,” said Hycy, after his father had gone out, “or rather Solomon Secundus, if j'ou are now an unfledged philosopher on our hands, w’hat will you not be when your pinions are growni ?” “]\Iy dear brother,” replied Edward, “I cannot see what on earth you can propose to yourself by THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 347 adopting this ridiculous style of conversation — I cannot really see any object you can have in it. If it be to vex or annoy iny lather, can you blame him if he feels both vexed and annoyed at it. ‘‘Most sapienlly said, Solomon Secundus — “ ‘ Solomon Lob was a ploughman stout, And a ranting oavalicr ; And» when the civil war broke out, It quickly did appear That Solomon Lob was six feet high, And lit for a grenadier. So Solomon Lob march’d boldly forth To sounds of bu j le horns • And a weary march had Solomon Lob, For Solomon Lob had corns. Row,— ra— ra— -row — de— dow.’ And so I wish you a good morning, most sapient Solomon. I go on business of importance affecting— the welfare of tlie nation, or rather of the empire at large— -embracing all these regions, antipodial and otherwise, on which the sun never sets. Good morning, therefore ; and, maternal relative, wishing the same to thee, with a less copious exhibition of the hydraulics, a-hem ! ” “Where is he going, mother, do you know !?^ asked Edward. “ Indeed I don’t know, Edward,” she replied ; “ he seldom or never tells us anything about his motions; but it vexes me to tliink that his fatiier vron’t make any allowance for his lightheartedness and fine spirits. Sure now, E iward, you know yourself it’s not raisonable to have a young man like him mum- pin’ and mopin’ about, as if there was awake in the house?” 348 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. The only reply Edward made to this weak and foolish speech was, “Yes; but there is reason in every- thing, my dear mother. I have heard,” he adurke calletl at the p<*st- ofiiee, and Tor tlie second time dining the day, asked il‘ tiiere was a letter lor Iiim. The po.-^t-m aster searched again, and replied, “ No; but here’s another for Bryan M’Mahon. ’ “What!” he exclaimed, “another for Bryan! Why he must have an extensive corn‘sponden(‘e, this Brvan M Mahon. I wonder who it’s from.” “There's no wonder at all abuot it,” replied the post-master, “it's IVom Major Vanston. Here’s his frank ami hand-writing in the direction and all.” “Allow me to look,” said Uvey, glancing at it. “Yt'S, yon are quite right, that is the gallant Ma- jor’s hand, without any mistake whatsoever. I will hot fetch him this letter,” he proceeded, “ because I know not when I may see him; but if I see him, I shall tell him.” Peety Dhn, who had so placed himself in the shop attached to the post-office, on seeing llycy approach, that he might overhear thi-* conversation without being seen, felt considt raldy surprised, that Ilycy should seem to have been ignorant that there was a letter M'Mihon, seeing that it was Ije himself w ho had sent it there. He consequently began to feel tiiat there was some mystery in the matter; but A^hatever it tnight be, he knew that it w’as beyond his power to develope. On coming forward from the dark part of the 364 THE EMIGRANTS OE AHADARRA. shop where he had been standing, he asked the post -master if there w^as a second letter for IM’- Mahon. “ No,” replied the man, “ there is only tlie one. If yon see him, tell him there’s a letter from Major Vanston in the office for him.” We must still trace llycy’s motions. On leaving the post-office, he went directly to the Head Inn, where lie knew Bryan M’Mahon was waitiiiir un.il the town should liecome perfectly calm and quie t. Here he found Bryan, whose mind was swayed now to one side and now to another, on considering the ])rinciple on w’hich he had voted, and the consequen- ces to which tiiat act might expose him. “ I know I w’ill have much to endure,” he thought, while pacing the room by himself in every way, “ but I little value anytiiing the worhl at large may think or say, so iliat I don’t lose tiie love and good opinion of Kathleen Cavanagh.” “Why, Bryan,” said Hycy as he entered, '^1 think you must jirovide a secretary some of these days, your correspondence is increasing so rapidly,” “ How is that ? ” inquired tlie other. “ Simply that there's anotlier letter in the post- office for you, and if I don't mistaki', from the same hand — tliat of our friend the Major.” “ I'm not aware of any« liiug he couM have to write to me about now,” replied Bryan; “I wonder what can it be?” “If you wish I shall fetch you tlie letter,” said Hycy, “as you have an objection I suppose logo out until the town is empty.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 365 “Thank you, Hycy, I'll feel obliged to you if you do ; and Ilycy, by the way, I am sorry that you and I ever mistook, or misunderstood one another; but sich things happen to tlie best of friends, and why should we hope to escape ? ” “ S]>eak only for yourself, Bryan,” repliere, Gerald Cavanag)*, now a fierce ad- vocate for Edward Burke, having, in compliance with old Jemmy, altogether abandoned Hycy, had been urging iijion Kathleen the prudi-nce and propriety of giving Bryan ^I’Mahon up, and receiving the addresses of young Burke, who was to inherit the bulk of his father's wealth and property; and among oth^r arguments against M’Malu^n he stated a wliis- per tlien gaining ground, that it was his interUion to vote for Vanston. “But 1 know to the contrary, father,” said Kath- leen, “ for I spoke to liini on that very subject, and Brvan M'Mahon is neither treacherous nor cowardly, an’ won’t of course abandon his religion or betray it into the hands of its enemies. Once for all, then,” she added, calmly, and with a smile full of aflection and good liumor, “ I say you may spare both your- self and me a great deal of trouble, my dear father. I grant you that 1 like and esteem Edward Burke 870 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. as a friend, an’ I tliink that he really is what his brother llycy wishes himself to be thotight — a true gentleman — but that is all, father, you know; for I would scorn to conceal it, that Bryan M’Mahon has my affections, aiid until he proves false to his God, his religion, and his country, I will never prove false to him nor withdraw my affections from him.” “For all that,” replied her father, “it’s strongly suspected that he’s goin’ over to the tories, an’ will vole for Vanston to•raorrow^” Kathleen rose with a glowing cheek, and an eye sparkling with an enthusiastic trust in her lover’s faitii ; “No, father,” said she, “ by the light of heaven above us, he wdll never vote for Vanston — unless Vanston becomes the friend of our religion. I have only one worthless life, but if I had a thou- sand, and that every one of them was worth a queen’s. I’d stake them all on Bryan M'Mahon’s truth. If he ever turns traitor— let me die before I hear it, I pray God this night ! ” As she spoke, the tears of pride, trust, and the noble attacliment by which she was moved, ran down her cheeks ; in fact, the natural dignity and liigh moral force of her character awed them, and her father completely subdued, simply replied — “Very well, Kathleen; I’ll say no more, dear; I w^on’t press the matter on you again, and so ni tell Jemmy Burke.” Kathleen, after wiping away her tears, thanked liirn, and said with a smile, and in spite of the most boundless confidence in the integrity of her lover, THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 3tl never, at any rate, father, until Bryan M’Mahon turns a traitor to his religion aiitl his country.'’ On the evening of the next day, or rather late at night, her father returned from the scene of contest, but very fortunately fnr Kitlileen’s peace of mind during that night, lie found on inquiry that she and Hanna had been f >r a coindderable time in bed. Tne following morning Hanna, who always took an active siiare in the duties of the family, and who would scarcely permit her sister to do anything, had been up a short time before her, and iieard from her mother’s lips the history of Bryan's treachery, as it was now termed by all. We need scarcely say that she was deeply affected, and wept bitterly. Kath- leen, who rose a few minutes afterwards, thought she saw her sister endeavoring to conceal her face, but the idea passed away without leaving anything like a fixed impression upon it. Hanna, who was engaged in various parts of the house, contrived still to keep her face from the observation of her sister, until at length the latter was ultimately struck by the circumstance as well as by Hanna’s unusual silence. Just as lier father had entered to bre akfast, a sob reached her ears, and on going over to inquire if anything were wrong, Hanna, who was now fairly overcome, and could conceal her distress no longer, ran over, and throwing herself on Kaihleen’s neck, she exclaimed in a violent burst of grief, ‘‘ Kath- leen, my darling sister, what wdl becoine of you ! It’s all true. Bryan has proved false and a traitor ; he voted for Vanston yesterday, and that vote lias put the bitter enemy of our faith into Parliament.” 372 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “ Bryan M’Malion a traitor ! ” exclaimed Kath- leen ; “no, Hanna — no, I say — a thoiisaiivl times no. It could not be — the thing is impossii)le — impossible ! ” “It is as true as God’s in heaven, that he voted yesterday for Vanston,” said her father; I both seen him and heard him, an’ that vote it was that gained V anston the election.” Hanna, whose arms were still around her sister's neck, felt her stagger beneath her on hearing those words from her father. “You say you saw him, father, and hard him vote for Vanston. You say you did ? ” “ I both seen the traitor an’ hard him,” replied the old man. “ Hanna, dear, let .me sit down,” said Kathleen, and Hanna, encircling her with one hand, drew a chair over with the other, on which, with a ch.eek pale as death, her sister sat, whilst Hanna still wept with her arms about her. After a long silence she at last simply said: — “ I must bear it ; but in this world my happiness is gone,” “ Don’t take it so much to heart avournecn,” said her mother; “ but, any way, hadn’t you betther see himself, an’ hear wdiat he has to say for himself. Maybe, afther all, it’s not so bad as it looks. See him, Kathleen; maybe there’s not so much harm in it yet.” “ No, mother, see him I will not, in that sense. — Bryan M'Mahon a traitor! Am I a dreamer? I am not asleep, and Bryan M’Mahon is false to God THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 373 and Ills country! I did think that he would give Ills life for both, if he was called upon to do so ; but not that he would prove false to them as he has done.” ‘•lie has, indeed,” said her father, “and the very person you hate so much, bad as you think him, did all in his power to prevent him from doin’ the black deed. I seen that, too, and hard it. Hycy per- suaded liirn as much as lie could against it; but he wouldn’t listen to him, nor pay him any attention.” “ Kathleen,” said her sister, “ the angels in lieaven fell, and surely it isn’t wonderful that even a good man should be tempted and fall from the truth as they did ? ” Kathleen seemed too much abstracted by lier dis- tress to hear this. She booked around at them all, one after another, and said in a low, composed, and solemn voice, “All is over now between that young man and me — and here is one request which I earnestly entreat you — every one of you — to comply with.” “ What is it darling? ” said her mother. “It is,” she replied, “never in my hearing to men- tion his name while I live. As for myself, I will never name him ! ” “ And think, after all,” observed her father, “ of poor Ilycy bein’ true to his religion ! ” It would seem tliat her heart was struggling to fling tlie image of M’Mahon from it, but without ef- fect. It was likely she tried to hate liim for his apostacy, but she could not. Still, her spirit was darkened with scorn and indignation at the act of 874 THE EMIGRANTS OF AH AD AREA. dishonor which she felt her lover had committed, just as the atmosphere is by a tempest. In fact, she detested what she considered the baseness and treaciiery of the vote; but could not of a sudden change a love so strong, so trusting, and so pure as hers, into the passions of enmity and liatred. No sooner, however, had her father named Hycy Burke with such approval, than the storm within lier direct- ed itself against him, and she said, “ For God’s sake, father, name not that unprincipled wretch tome any more. I liate and detest him more than any man li ving. He has no good quality to redeem ])iin. Ah ! Hanna, Hanna, and is it come to this? The dream of ray happiness has vanished, and I awake to noth- ing now but affliction and sorrow. As for happiness, I must think of that no more. Father, after break- fast, do you go up to that young man, and tell liirn the resolution I have come to, and that it is over for ever between him and me.” Soon after this, she once more exacted a promise from them to observe a strict silence on the unhappy event which had occurred, and by no means ever to attempt offering her consolation. Tliese promises they religiously kept, and from this forth neither M’Mahon’s name nor Ins offence were made the topics of any conversation that occurred between them. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 375 CHAPTER XX. m'mAIIOX IS DENOUNCED FROM THE ALTAR — RECEIVES Ills SKNTENCE FROM KATHLEEN, AND RESOLVES TO EMIGliATE. Whatever difficulty Bryan M’Mahon had among Ills family in defending llie course lie had taken at the election, he found that not a soul belonging to Ids own party would listen to any defence from him. The indignation, obloquy, and spirit of revenge with which lie was pursued and harassed, excited in his heart, as they would in that of any generous man conscious of his own integrity, a principle of con- tempt and defiance, whicli, however they required independance in him, only made matters far worse than they otherwise would have been. He express- ed neither regret nor repentance for having voted as he did ; but on the contrary asserted with a good deal of warmth, tliat if the same course lay open to liirn he would again pursue it. “ I will never vote for a scoundrel,” said he, “ and I don’t think that there is anything in my religion that makes it a duty on me to do so. If ray religion is to be supported by scoundrels, the sooner it is forced to depend on itself the better. Mnjor Vans- ton is a good landlord, and supports the rights of liis tenantry, Catholic as well as Protestant; he saved me from ruin when my own landlord refused to interfere for me, an’ Major Vanston, if he’s con- scientiously opposed to my religion, is an honest 876 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. man at all events, and an honest man I’ll ever sup- port against a rogue, a«)d let their politics go where they generally do, “ go to the devil.” Party is a blind, selfish, inlatiialed monster, bru- tal and vehement, that knows not what is meant by reason, justice, liberty, or truth. M’Mahon, merely because he gave utterance with proper spirit to sen- ments of plain common sense, was assailed by every description of abuse, until he knew not where to take refuge from that cowardly and ferocious tyranny which in a hundred shapes proceed from the pub- lic mob. On the Sunday after the election, his parish priest, one of those political fire brands wlio, whether under a mitre or a white band, are equally disgraceful and detrimental to religion and the peace- ful interests of mankind — this man, we say, 0[)enly denounced him from tiie altar, in language which must have argued but little reverence for the sacred, place from which it was uttereJ, and which came with a very bad grace from one wlio affected to be an advocate for liberty of conscience and a minis- ter of peace. ‘‘Ay,” he proceeded, standing on the altar, “it is well known to our disgrace and shame how the elec- tion was lost. Oh, well may I say to our disgrace and shame. Little did I think that any one, bearing the once respectable name of M’Mahon upon him, should turn from the interests of his lioly church, spurn all truth, violate all principle, and enter into a league of hell wiih the devil and the enemies of his church. Yes, you apostate,” he proceeded, “ you have entered into a laugue with him, and ever since THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 377 there is devil within yon. You sold yourself to his agent and rejjresenlali ve, Yanston. You got liiiu to in erfeie for } on \\ iili the Board uT Excise, and the fine that was jnsily iiiip^ sed on you for your siruig- gliii’ and dislilliu’ whisky — not that I’lii rmmin’ dow’n our wdiisky, because it’s the best drinkin’ of that kind w’e have, and drinks beautiful as soatJdeea wdd a bit of butther ami sugar in it — but it’snoioii- ous that you went to Yanston, and offered if lie’d get the fine off you, that you’d give him your vole; an’ if that’s not selliu’ yourself to the devil, I don’t know what i^*. Judas did the same thing w hen he betrayed our Savior — the only ditforence is — that he got a thirty shilling note — an’ God knows it was a beggarly bargain — wdien his hand was in he ought to have done the thing dacent — and you g it the tine taken olf you; that’s the difference — lliat’s the dif- ference. But there’s more to come — more corrup- tion w here that was. Along wid the removal of the fine you got a better note than Mr. Judas got. Do you happen to know anything about a fifty pound note cut in two halves? Eh? Am I tickling you ? Do you happen to know anything about that, you traicherous apostate? It you don’t, I do; and plaise God before many hours the public w^ill know enough of it too. How dare you, then, pollute the house of God, or come in presence of His h dy altar, wid such a crust of crimes upon your soul ? Can you deny that you entered into a league of liell wid the devil and Major Yanston, and that you promised him your vote if he'd get the fine remov- ed?” 378 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. ‘‘I can,” replied Bryan; there’s not one word of truth in it.” ‘ Do you hear tiiat, niy friends?” exclaimed the priest ; “ he calls your priest a liar upon the altar of tlic livin’ Gomote the views wliich he entertained for Kathleen’s happiness. Ever since the notion of Ijer marriage with Ilycy Burke or Ids brother — it mattered little to him which — he felt exceedingly dissatisfied with her attachment to M’Mahon. Of this weakness, which we may say, was the only one of the family, we have already spoken. He lost little time, however, in going to communicate his daughter’s determination to that young man. It so happened, however, that, notwithstanding three several journeys made lor the purpose, he could not see liirn ; the fact being: that Bryan always hap- pened to be from home when he went. Then came the denouncing scene which we have just described, when his illness put it out of his power, witliout danger to himself, to undergo anything calculated to discompose or disturb him. Tlje popular feeling, however, was fearfullv high and indignant against 7 O O O 880 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. him. The report went that he l»ad called Father jr Pepper, the senior curate, a liar upon tiie very altar; and the commencement of his ex|)laiianoii witli respect to the tifly-poiind note, was n(»t inniat- iirally — since they woiihi not permit him to speak — construed into an open admission of his having been bribed. Tliis was severe and trying enough, but it was not all. Chevydah*, whom he unseated by liis vole, af- ter having incurred several thousand pounds of expense, was resolved to make him suffer for tlie loss of his seat, as well as for having dared to vote against Idm — a purpose in which he was strongly supported, or into vvhicl), we should rather say, he M^as urged by Fethertonge, who in p<>int of fact, now that the leases had dropped, was negotiating a beneficial bargain with the guager, apart from Chevydale’s knowledge, who was a feeble, weak- minded man, witliout experience or a proper know- ledge of his duties. In fact he was one of tltose persons who, having no fixed character of their own, are either good or evil, according to the principles of those by whom they happen for the time to be managed. If Chevydale had been under the guid- ance of a sensible and humane agent he would have been a good landlord ; but the fact being otherwise^ lie was, in Fethertonge’s hands, anything but what a landlord ought to be. Be this as it may, the p<*ri- od of ^[’Mahon’s illness passed away, and, on rising from liis sick be«l, he found the charge of bribery one of universal belief against which scarcely any person had courage to raise a voice. Even Ilycy THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 381 suffered himself, as it were, with great regret and reiuctance, to become at length persuaded of its truth. Kathleen, on hearing that he himself had been forced to admit it in the cliapel, felt that tlie gloom which had of late wrapped her in its shadow DOW hecariie so black and impervious, that she could see nothing distinctly. The two facts — that is to say, the vote and the brii)ery — seemed to her like sofue frightful hallucination which lay upon her spirits — some formidable illusion that haunted her night and day, and filled her whole being with des- olation and sorrow. Witli respect to his own feelings there was but one thought w'hich gave him concern, and this was an apprehen-ion that Katlileen rnigiit be carried aw^ay by the gencr il prejudice wdiich existed against him. “I know Kathleen, how’ever,” he would sdy ; “I know her truth, her good sense, and her affection; and, wliatever the wmrld may say, she won’t follow its example and condemn me without a hearing. I w ill see her to-morrow aniiiful hound, unworthy of your name and family. You did well to put him out. If I had been in your place, ‘ out you go,’ I’ti say, ‘ you’re not the man for my money.’ Don’t let what the world says fret you, Bryan ; sure, while you have Kathleen and me at your back, you needn’t care about them. At any rate it’s well for Father M’Pepper that I’m not a man, or, priest as he is, I’d make a stout horsewhip tache him to mind his religion, and not intermeddle in jvolitics where he has no business.” “ Why, you’re a great little soldier, Dora,” re- plied Bryan, smiling on her with affectionate admi- ration. “ I hate anything tyrannical or overbearing,” she replied, “ as I do anything that’s mane and un- generous.” “As to Father M’Pepper, we’re not to take him as an example of what his brother priests in general arc or ought to be. The man may think he is doing THE EMIGRANTS OT ;SHAi:>AflRA. 383 only his duty ; but at all events, Dora, he has prov- ed to me, very much at my own cost I grant, that lie has more zeal than discretion ! May God for- give him; and that’s the worst I wish him. When did you see or hear from Kathleen? I long to give her an explanation of my conduct, because I know slie will listen to raison.” “ Tliat’s more than I know yet, then,” replied Dora. “She lias awful high notions of our religion, an’ thinks we ought to go about huntin’ after mar- tyrdom. Yes, faix, she thinks we ought to lay down our lives for our religion or our count hry, if we were to be called on to do so. Isn’t that nice doctrine ? She’s always reading books about them.” “It is, Dora, and thrue doctrine; and so we ought — that is, if our deaths would serve either the one or the other,” • “ And would you die for them, if it went to that ? because if you would, I would ; for then I’d know that I ought to do it.” “ I don’t know, Dora, whether Fd have strength or courage to do so, but I know one who would.” “I know too— Kathleen.” “Kathleen? you have said it. She would, I am certain, lay down her life for either her religion or the welfare of her country, if such a sacrifice could be necessary.” “ Bryan, I have heard a thing about her, and I don’t know w'hether I ought to tell it to you or not.” “ I lave that to your own discretion, Dora ; but r>84 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. you haven’t heard, nor can you tell me anything, but what must be to her credit.” “ I’ll lell you, then ; 1 lieaid it, but I won’tbelieve it till I satbfy myself — tliat your family dar n’t name your name to her at home, and that everything is 10 be over between you. Now, I’m on my way there to know whether this is true or not; if it is, I’ll tliink less of her than I ever did.” “Audi won’t Dora; but will think more liighly of her still. She thinks I’m as bad as I’m reported to be.” “And that's just what she ouglit not to think. Why not see you and ask you the raison of it like a — ha ! ha ! — I was goin’ to say like a man ? Sure if she was as generous as she ought to be, she’d call upon you to explain yourself; or, at any rate, she’lade your cause; no lawyer could match me. Whisht!” she exclaimed, “ isn’t that Gerald iiimself cornin’ over to us ?” “ It is,” replied Bryan, “ let us meet him and, as he spoke, tt>ey turned their steps towards him. As they met, Bryan, forgetting every tiling that iiad occurred, and inlluenced solely by the habit of for- mer friendship and good feeling, extended his hand with an intention of clasping that of his old acquaint- ance, but the latter withdrew, and refused to meet tliis usual exponent of good will. “Well, Gerald,” said M’Mahon, smiling, “I see you go with the world too; but, since you won’t shake hands with me, allow me to ask your business.” “To deliver a message to you from my daughter, and she'd not allow me to deliver it to any one but yourself. I came three times to see you before your sickness, but I didn't find you at home.” “ What’s the message, Gerald ?” “The message, Bryan, is — that you are never to spake toiler, nor will she ever more name your name. She will never be your wile; for she says tliat the heart that forgeis its duty to God, and the hand tliat has been soiled by a bribe, can never be any- thing to lier but the cause of shame and sorrow; and she bids me say that her happiness is gone and her heart broken. Now, farewell, and think of the 17 386 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. girl you have lost by disgracin’ your religion and your name.” Bryan paused for a moment, as if irresolute how to act, and exchanged glances with his high-minded litile sister, “ Tell Kathleen, from me,” said the latter, ‘‘ that if she had a little more feeling, and a little less pride or religion, I don’t know which, she’d be more of a woman and less of a saint. My brother, tell her, has disgraced neither his religion nor his name, and that he Ims too much of the pride of an injured man to give back any answer to sicli a message. That’s my answer, and not his, and you may ask her if it’s either religion or common justice that makes her condemn him she loved without a hearing ? Good- bye, now, Gerald; give my love to Hanna, and tell her she’s worth a ship-load of her stately sister.” Bryan remained silent. In fact, he felt so complete- ly overwhelmed that he was incapable of uttering a syllable. On seeing Cavanagh return, he was about to speak, when he looked upon the glowing cheeks, flashing eyes, and panting bosom of iiis heroic little sister. You are right, my darling Dora. I "must be proud on receiving such a message. Kathleen has done me injustice, and I must be proud in my own defence.” The full burthen of this day’s care, however, had not been yet laid upon him. On returning home, he heard from one of his laborers that a notice to quit his farm of Ahadarrahad been lelt at his house. Tnis, after the heavy sums of money which he had THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 387 expended in its improvement and reclamation, was a bitter addition to what he was forced to suffer. On hearing of this last circumstance, and after perusing the notice which the man, who had come on some other message, had brought with him, he looked around him on every side for a considerable time. At length he said, ^‘Dora, is not this a fine country ? ” “It is,” she replied, looking at him with sur- prise. “ Would you like,” he added, “ to lave it.” “ To lave it, Bryan !” she replied. “ Oh, no, not to lave it and as she spoke, a deadly paleness set- tled upon her face. “Poor Dora,” he said, after surveying her for a time with an expression of love and compassion, “ I know your saicret, and have done so this long time; but don’t be cast down. You have been a warm and faithful little friend to me, and it will go hard or I’ll befriend you yet.” Dora looked up into his face, and as she did, her eyes filled with tears. “I won’t deny what you know, Bryan,” she replied ; “ and unless he — ” “ Well, dear, don’t fret; he and I will have a talk about it ; but, come what may, Dora, in this neglect- ed and unfortunate country I will not stay. Here, now, is a notice to quit my farm, that I have im- proved at an expense of seven or eight hundred pounds, an’ it’s now goin’ to be taken out of my hands, and every penny I expended on it goes into the pocket of the landlord or agent, or both, and I’m to be driven out of house and home without a 388 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADAPwRA. single farthing of compensation for the build- ings and other improvements that I made on that farm.” “ It’s a hard and cruel case,” said Dora ; “ an’ there can be no doubt but that the landlord and Fethertonge are both a pair of great rogues. Can’t you challenge them, an’ figiit them ? ” “ Why, what a soldier you are, Dora!” replied her brother, smiling; “but you don’t know that their situation in life and mine puts that entirely out o’ the question. If a landlord was to be called upon to fight every tenant he neglects, or is unjust to, he would have a busy time of it. No, no, Dora dear, my mind’s made up. We will lave the country. We will go to America; but, in the mean time, ril see what I can do for you.” “Bryan, dear,” she said in a voice of entreaty, “don’t think of it. Oh, stay in your own coun- try. Sure what other country could you like as well?” “I grant you that, Dora; but the truth is, there seems to be a curse over it; whatever’s the raison of it, nothing goes right in it. Tlie landlords in general care little about the state and condition of their tenantry. All they trouble themselves about is their rents. Look at rny own case, an’ that’s but one out of thousands that’s happenin’ every day in the country. Grantin’ that he didn’t sarve me with this notice to quit, an’ supposin’ he let me stay in the farm, he’d rise it on me in sich a way as that I could hardly live in it; an’ you know, Dora, that to be merely strugglin’ an’ toilin’ all one’s life is any- THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 389 tiling but a comfortable prospect. 1 hen, in conse- quence of tiie people dependin’ upon nothing but the potato for food, whenever that cn.-p fails, which, in general, it does every seventh or eighth year, there’s a famine, an’ then the fimine is followed by fever an’ all kinds of contagious diseases, in sich a way that the kingdom is turned into one great hospital and grave-yard. It’s these things that’s sendin’ so many thousands out of the country ; and if we’re to go at all, let us go like the rest, while we’re able to go, an’ not wail till we become too poor either to go or stay with comfort.” “ Well, I suppose,” replied his sister, that what you say is true enough ; hut for all that I’d rather bear anything in my own dear country than go to a strange one. Do you think I’d not miss the summer sun rising behind tiie Althadawan hills? an’ how could I live without seein’ him set behind Mallybeney? An’ then to live in a country where I’d not see these ould hills, the green glens, and mountain rivers about us, that have all grown into my heart. Oh, Bryan, dear, don’t think of it— don’t think of it.” “Dora,” replied the other, his fine countenance overslindowed with deep emotion as he spoke, “ you cannot love these ould hills, as you call them, nor these beautiful glens, nor the mountain rivers better than I do. It will go to rny heart to leave them ; but leave them I will — ay, and when I go, you know that I will leave behind me one that’s deart r ten thousand times than them all. Kathle« n’s message has left me a heavy and sorrowful heart. “ I pity iier now,” re}»lied the kiiid-hearted girl ; 390 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “but still, Bryan, she sent you a harsh message. Ay, I pity her, lor did you observe how the father looked when he said that she bid him tell you her happiness was gone, and her heart brt)ken ; still, she ought to have seen yourself and heard your defence.” “ I can neither blame her, nor will ; neither can I properly justify my vote, I grant; it was surely very wrong or she wouldn’t feel it as she does. In- deed I think I oughtn’t to have voted at all.” “I differ with you there, Bryan,” replied Dora, with animation, “ I would rather, ten times over, vote wnmgly, than not vote from cowardice. It’s a mane, skulkin’, shabby thing, to be afeard to vote when one has a vote — it’s unmanly.” “ I know it is; and it was that very thought that made me vote. I felt that it would look both mane and cowardly not to vote, and accordingly I did vote.” “Ay, and you did right,” replied his spirited sister, “ and I don’t care wlio opposes you. Til sup- port you for it, through thick .and thin.” “And I suppose you may say through right and wrong, too ? ” “Ay would I,” she replied; “eh? — what am I sayin’ ? — throth I’m a little mad-cap, I think. No, I won’t support you through right and wrong — it’s only when you’re right you may depend on me.” They had now been more than an hour strolling about the fields, when Bryan, who did not feel him- self quite so strong as he itnagined he was, proposed to return to his father’s, where, by the way, he had THE EMIGRANTS OP AHADARRA. 391 been conveyed from the chapel on the Sunday when he had been so severely maltreated. They accordingly did so, foi he felt himself weak, and unable to prolong his walk to any greater distance. 892 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. CHAPTER XXI. THOMAS m’mAHON IS FORCED TO DETERMINE ON EMI- GRATION. Gerald Cavanagh felt himself secretly relieved by the discharge of his message to M’Mahon. “ It is good,” thought he, “ to have that affair set- tled, an’ all expectation of her marriage with him knocked up. Pll be bound a little time will cool the foolish girl, and put Edward Burke in the way of succeedin’. As for Hycy, I see clearly that whoever is to succeed, he’s not the man — an’ the more the pity, for the sorra one of them all so much the gen- tleman, nor will live in sich style.” The gloom which lay upon tlie heart of Kathleen Cavanagh was neither moody nor captious, but on the contrary remarkable for a spirit of extreme gen- tleness and placidity. From the moment she had come to the resolution of discarding M’Mahon, she was observed to become more silent than she had ever been, but at the same time her deportment was characterized by a tenderness towards the other members of the family that was sorrowful and affect- ing to the last degree. Her sister Hanna’s sympa- thy was deep and full of sorrow. Xone of them, however, knew her force of character, nor the in- roads wliich, under guise of this placid calm, strong grief was secretly making on her health and spirits. The paleness, for instance, which settled on her cheeks, when the news of her lover’s apostacy, as it THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 393 was called, and as she considered it, reached her, never for one moment hft it afterwards, and she resembled some exquisitely chiselled statue moving by machinery, more than anything else to which vve can compare lier. She was sitting with Hanna when her father re- turned, after having delivered her message to M’Ma- hon. The old man seemed, if one could judge by his features, to feel rather satisfied, as in fact was the case, and after having put up his good hat, and laid aside his best coat, he said, I have delivered your message, Kathleen, an’ dear knows I’m glad there’s an end to that business — it never had my warm heart.” “It always had mine, then,” replied Hanna, “an’ I think we ought not to judge our fellow creatures too severely, knowin’ as we do that there’s no such thing as perfection in this world. What the sorra could have come over him, or tempted him to vote as he did ? What did he say, father, when you brought him the message ? ” “Aftlier I declared it,” replied her father, “ he was struck dumb, arid never once opened his lips; but if he didn’t spake, his sister Dora did.” “ Ar»’ what did she say — generous and spirited little Dora ! — what did she say, father? ” He then repeated the message as accurately as he could — for the lionest old man was imbued with too conscieniious a love for truth to disscuise or conceal a single syllable that had been intrusted to him on either side — “Throth,” said he, “ the same Dora has the use of her tongue when she pleases ; ‘ ax her,’ 394 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. said she, spakin’ of Kathleen, here, ' if it’s either re- ligion or common justice that makes her condemn my brother without bearin’ his defence. Good-bye, now,’ says she; ‘give my love to Hanna, and tell her she’s worth a ship-load of her stately sister.’ ” “Poor I>oral” exclaimed Hanna, whilst the tears came to her eyes, “ who can blame her for defend- ing so good and affectionate a brother ? Plague on it for an election ! I wish there was no sich thing in the country.” “ As for me,” said Kathleen, “ I wouldn’t condemn him without a hearing, if I had any doubt about his conduct, but I have not. He voted for Vanston — that can’t be denied ; and proved himself to have less honesty and scruple than even that profligate Hycy. Burke; and if he made a bargain with Vanston, as is clear he did, an’ voted for him because the other got his fine reduced, why that is worse, because then he did it knowingly an’ with his eyes open, an’ con- trary to his conscience — ay, an’ to his solemn promise to myself; for I’ll tell you now what I never mentioned before, that I put him on his guard against doing so ; and he knew that if he did, all would and must be over between him and me.” “ Is that true, Kathleen ? ” said Hanna with surprise; “but why need I ask you such a ques- tion — it’s enough that you say it — in that case then I give him up at last; but who, oh, who could a’ believed it ? ” “But that is not all,” continued Kathleen, in the same mournfid and resigned tone of voice — “ there’s the bribe — didn’t hundreds hear him acknowledge THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 395 publicly ill the chapel that he got it? What more is wanting? How couM I ever respect a man that lias proved himself to be without either honesty or principle? and why should it happen, that the mari who has so openly and so knowingly disgraced his religion and his name fall to my lot? Oh, no — it matters little how I love him, and I grant that in spite of all that has happened I have a lingering af- fection for him even yet; still 1 don’t think that af- fection will live long — I can now neither respect nor esteem him, an’ when that is the case I can’t surely continue long to love him. I know,” she proceeded, “that it’s not possible for him ever to clear himself of this shocking and shameful conduct; but lest there might be any chance of it, 1 now say before you all, that if something doesn’t come about, three months^ that may and ought to change my feelings towards him, I’ll live afterwards as if I had never known him.” “Mightn’t you see him, however, an’ hear what he has to say for himself?” asked Hanna. “No,” the other replied ; “ he heard my message, and was silent. You may rest assured if he had anything to say in his own defence, he would have said it, or asked to see me. Oh, no, no, because I feel that he’s defenceless.” In this peculiar state of circumstances our readers need not feel surprised that every possible agency was employed to urge her beyond the declaration she had made, and to induce her to receive the ad- dresses of Edward Burke. Pier own parents, old Jemmy Burke, the whole body of her relatives, each S96 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. in turn, and sometimes several of them together, added to which we may mention the parish priest, who was called in by both families, or at least by old Jemmy Burke and the Cavanaghs — all we say perpetually assailed her on the subject of a union with Edward Burke, and assailed her so pertina- ciously, that out of absolute apathy, if not despair, and sick besides of their endless importunities, she at last said — “ If Edward Burke can be satisfied with a wife that has no heart to give him, or that cannot love him, I don’t care much how I am dis- posed of ; he may as well call me wife as another, and better, for if I cannot love, I can at least respect him.” These circumstances, together with the period al- lowed to M’Mahon for setting himself if possible right with Kathleen, in due time reached his ears. It soon appeared, however, that Kathleen had not all the pride — if pride it could be called — to herself, M’Mahon, on being made acquainted with what had occurred, which he had heard from his sister Dora, simply said — “ Since she has not afforded myself any opportunity of tellin’ her the truth, I won’t attempt to undeceive her. I will be as proud as she is. That is all I say.” “And you are right, Tom,” replied Dora, “ the name of M’Mahon mustn’t be consarned with any- thing that’s mane or discreditable. The pride of our old blood must be kept up. Torn; but still when we think of what she’s sufferin’ we musn’t open our lips against her.” “ Oh, no,” he replied ; “ I know that it’s neither THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 397 harshness nor weakness, nor useless pride that makes her act as she’s doin’, but a great mind and a heart that’s full of truth, high thoughts, and such a love for her religion and its prosperity as I never saw in any one. Still, Dora, I’m not the person tliat will ever sneak back to entreat and plead at her feet like a slave, and by that means make myself look still worse in her eyes; I know very well that if I did so she’d despise me. God bless her, at all events, and make her happy ! that’s the worst I wish her.” “Amen,” replied Dora; “you have said nothing but the truth about her, and indeed I see, Tom, that you know her well.” Thus ended the generous dialogue of Dora and her affectionate brother, who after all might have been induced by her to remain in his native country and share whatever fate it miglit allot him, were it not that in a few days afterwards, his father found that the only terms on which he could obtain his farm were such as could scarcely be said to come within the meaning and spirit of the landlord’s adage, “ live and let live.” It is true that for the terms on which his farm was offered him he was indebted to Chevydale himself, who said that as he knew his fa- ther had entertained a higli respect for old M’M ihon, he would not suffer him to be put out. The fatlier besides voted for him, and always had voted for tiie family. “Do what you please with the son,” he proceeded — “ get rid of him as you like, but I shan’t suffer the father to be removed. Let him have the farm upon reasonable terms; and, by the way, 898 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA; Fethertonge, don’t you think now it was rather an independent act of the young fellow to vote for Van- ston, although he knew that I had it in my power to send him about his business ? ” ‘‘It was about as impudent a piece of ingratitude and defiance as ever 1 witnessed/’ returned the other. “ The wily rascal calculated upon your forbearance and easiness of disposition, and so imagined that he might do what he pleased with impunity. We shall undeceive him however.” “ Well, but you forget that he had soma cause of displeasure against us, in consequence of having neglected his memorial to the Co-mmissioners of Excise.” “Yes; but as I said before, how could we with credit involve ourselves in the illegal villany of a smuggler? It is actually a discredit to have such a fellow upon the estate. He is, in the first place, a bad example, and calculated by his conduct and in- fluence to spread dangerous principles among the ten- antry. However, as it is, he is fortunately for us rather well known at present. It is now perfectly notorious — and I have it from the best authority- — one of the parties who was cognizant of his conduct — that his vote against you was the result of a de- liberate compact with our enemy, Vanston, and that he received a bribe of fifty pounds from him. This he has had the audacity to acknowledge himself, be- ing the very amount of the sum to which the penalty against him was mitigated by Vanston’s interfer- ence. In fact the scoundrel is already infamous in the country.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 399 “What, for receiving a bribe ! ” exclaimed Chevy- dale, looking at the agent with a significant smile ; “and what, pray, is the distinction between liirn who ffivos and him who takes a bribe? Let us look o at home a little, my good Fethertonge, .and learn a little charity to those who err as we do. A man would think now to hear you attack M’Mahon for bribery, that you never had bribed a man in your life; and yet you know that it is the consciousness of bribery on our own part that prevents us from attempting to unseat Vanston.” “ That’s all very true, I grant you,” replied the other; “ but in the mean time we must keep up ap- pearances. The question, so far as regards M’Mahon, is — not so much whether he is corrupt or not, as whether he has unseated you; that is the fatal |^ct against him ; and if we allow that to pass without making him suffer for it, you will find tiiat on tiie next election he may have many an imitator, and you chances will not be w'orth much — that’s all.” “ Very well, Fethertonge,” replied the indolent, and feeble-minded man, “I leave him to you; manage him or punish him as you like ; but I do beg that you wdll let me hear no more about him. Keep his father, however, on the property; I insist on tl)at; he is an honest man, for he voted for me; keep him on his farm at reasonable terms too, such, — of course, as he can live on.” The reasonable terms proposed by Fethertonge were, however, such as old Tom M’Mahon could not with any prospect of independence encounter. Even this, hownwer, was not to him the most depressing 400 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. consideration. Faith had been wantonly and de- liberately broken with him — the solemn words of a dying man had been disregarded — and, as Fether- tonge bad made him believe, by that son who had always professed to regard and honor bis father’s memory. ‘‘ I assure you, M’Mahon,” replied the agent, in the last interview he ever had with him, I assure you /have done all in my power to bring matters about ; but without avail. It is a painful thing to have to do with an obstinate man, M’Mahon ; with a man who, although he seems quiet and easy, will and must have everything his own way.” ‘‘ Well, sir,” replied M’Mahon, “ you know what his dying father’s words wor to me.” “ And more than I know them, I can assure you, he Whispered, in a very significant voice, and with a nod of the head that seemed to say, “ your land- lord knows them as well as I do. I have done my duty, and communicated them to him, as I ought.” M’Mahon shook his head in a melancholy manner, and said, — “Well, sir, at any rate I know the worst. I couldn’t now have any confidence or trust in such a man ; I could depend upon neither his word or his promise; I couldn’t look upon him as a friend, for he didn’t prove himself one to my son when he stood in need of one. It’s clear that he doesn’t care about the welfare and prosperity of his tenantry; and for that raison — or rather for all these raisons put to- gether — I’ll join my son, and go to a country where. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 401 by all accounts, there’s better prospects for them that’s honest and industrious than there is in this unfortunate one of ours, — where the interests of the people is so much neglected — neglected! no, but never tiiought of at all ! Good-bye, sir/’ he added, taking up his hat, whilst the features of this sterling and honest man were overcast with a solemn and pathetic spirit, “ don't consider me any longer your tenant. For many a long year has our names been — but no matther — the time is come at last, and the M’Mahou’s of Carriglass and Ahadarra will be known there no more. It wasn’t our fault; we wor willin’ to live — oh ! not merely willin’ to live, but anxious to die there; but it can’t be. Good-bye, sir.” And so they parted. M’Mahon, on his return home, found Bryan, who now spent m.)St of his time at Carriglass, before him. On entering the house Ids family, who were all assembled, saw by tlie expression of his face that his heart had been deeply moved, and was filled with sorrov\^ “Bryan,” said he, “ you are right — as indeed you always are. Cldldre’,” he proceeded, “ w^e must lave the place that we loved s > much ; where we have lived for hundreds of years. This counthry isn’t one now to prosper in, as I sjid not long since — this very day. We must lave the ould places, an’ as I tould Fethertonge, the M’Mahons of Ahadarra and Car- riglass will be the M’Mahons of Ahadarra and Car- riglass no more ; but God’s will be done! I must look to the intherest of you all, cldldre’; but, God help us, that’s what'I can’t do here for the future. 402 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. Every one of sense and substance is doin’ so, an’ why shouldn’t we take care of ourselves as well as the rest? Wiiat we want here is encouragement and fair play; hwlfareer gair^il isn’t to be had.” The gloom which they read in his countenance was now explained, but this was not all; it immedi- ately settled upon the other members of the family who were immediately moved, — all by sorrow, and some even to tears. Dora, who notwithstanding what her brother had said wdth regard to his inten- tion of emigrating, still maintained a latent hope that he might change his mind, and that a reconcil- iation besides might yet be brought about between him and Kathleen, now went to her father, and, with tears in her eyes, threw her arms about his neck, exclaiming : “ Oh, father dear, don’t think of leav- ing this place, for how could we leave it ? What other country could we ever like as well ? and my grandfather — here he’s creepin’ in, sure he’s not the same man within the last few months,— oh, how could you think of bringin’ him, now that he’s part- ly in his grave, an’ he,” she added, in a whisper full of compassion, “ an’ he partly dotin’ with feebleness and age.” “Hush! ” said her father, “ we must say nothing of it to him. That must be kept asaicret from him, an’ it’s likely he won’t notice the change.” Kitty then went over, and laying her hand on her father’s arm, said: “Father, for the love of God, don’t take us from Carriglass and Ahadarra : — what- ever the world has for us, whether for good or evil, let us bear it here.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 403 “Father, you won’t bring us nor you won’t go,” added Dora ; “ sure we never could be very misera- ble here, where we have all been so happy.” “ Poor Dora ! ” said Bryan, “ what a mistake that is ! I feel the contrary ; for the very happiness that I and all of us enioyed here, now only adds to what I’m sufferin’.” “Childre’,’’ said the father, “our landlord has broken his own father’s dyin’ promise — you all re- member how full of delight I came home to you from Dublin, and how she that’s gone” — he paused — he covered Ids face wiih his open hands, through which the tears were seen to trickle. Tiiis allusion to their beloved mother was too much for them. Artliur and Michael sat in silence, not knowing exactly upon what grounds their father had formed a resolution, which, when proposed to him by Bryan, appeared to be one to which his heart could never lend its sanction. No sooner was their mother named, how- ever, than they too became deeply moved, and when Kitty and Dora both rushed with an outcry of sor- row to tlieir father, exclaiming, Oh, father dear, think of her that’s in the clay — for her sake, change your mind and don’t take us to where we can never weep a tear over her blessed grave, nor ever kneel over it to ofier a prayer within her bearin’ for her soul ! ” “ Ciiildre’,” he exclaimed, wiping away his tears that had indeed flowed in all the bitterness of grief and undeserved affliction; “childre’,” he replied, “ you must be manly now ; it’s because I love you an’ feels anxious to keep you from beggary and sor- 401 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. row at a future time, and destitution and distress, such as we see among so many about us every day in the w^eek, that I’ve made up my mind togo. Our landlord won’t give us our tarm barrin’at a rent that ’ud bring us down day by day, to poverty and dis- tress, like too many of our neighbors. We have yet some ihrifle o’ money left, as much as will, by all accounts, enable us to take — I mane to purchase a farm in America — an’ isn’t it betther for us to go there, and be independent, no matther what it may cost our hearts to suffer by d«»in’ so, than to stay here until the few hundre’ that I’ve got together is melted aw^ay out of my pocket into the pocket of a landlord that never wanst th roubles himselt’ to krmw liow w e’re gettin’ on, or whether we’re doin’ well or ill. Then think of his conduct to Bryan, there; how he neglected him, and woulddet him go to ruin wid- out ever movin’ a finger to save him Irom it. No, childre’, undher sich a man I won’t stay. Prepare yourselves, then, to lave this. In biddin’ you to do so, I’m actin’ for the best towards you all. I’m doin’ my duty by you, and I expect for timt raison, an’ as obedient childre’ — which I’ve ever found you — that you’ll do your duty by me, ari’ give no further op- position to what I’m prop ^sin’ for your sakes. I know you’re all loath — an’ you wdll be loath — to lave this place ; but do you think? — do you ? — that I — I — oh, my God ! — do yon think, I say, that I’ll feel nothing when w^e go? Oh ! little you know of me if you tliink so; but, as I said, we must do our duty. We see our neighbors failin’ away into pov- erty, and distress, and destitution day by day, and THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 405 if we remain in tins unfortunate country, we must only folly in their tracks, an’ belore long be as mis- erable and helpless as tliey are.” His family were forced to admit the melancholy truth and strong sense of all he had uttered, and, although the resolution to which he had come was one of bitterness arid sorrow to them all, yet from a principle of alFeclion and duty towards him, they felt that any opposition on their part would have been unjustifiable and wrong. “But, sure,” the old man proceeded, “there’s more than I’ve mentioned yet, to send us away. Look at poor Bryan, there, how he was nearly ruin- ed by the villany of some cowardly scoundrel, or scoundrels, who set up a still upon his farm ; that’s a black business, like many another black business that’s a disgrace to the country — an inoffensive young man, that never made or did anything to make an enemy for himself durin’ his whole life ! An’ another thing, bekaise he voted for the man that saved him from destruction, as he ought to do, an’ as I’m proud he did do, listen now to the black- guard outcry that’s against him; ay, and by a crew of vagabonds that ’ud sell Christ himself, let alone their country, or their religion, if they were bribed by Protestant goold for it ! Throth I’m sick of the counthry and the people ; for instead of gettin’ bet- ther it’s worse they’re gettin’ every day. Make up your minds then, cldldre’ ; there's a curse on the counthry. Many o' the landlords are bad enough, too bad, and too neglectful, God knows ; but sure the people themselves is as bad, an’ as senseless on 406 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. the other hand; aren’t they blinded so much by their bad feelins, and short-sighted passions, that it is often the best landlords they let out their revenge upon. Prepare then, cliildre’ ; for out of the con n- thry, or at any rate from among the people, tlie poverty and the misery that’s in it, wid God’s assist- ance, we’ll go while we’re able to do so.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 407 CHAPTER XXII. MYSTERY AMONG THE HOGANS — FINIGAN DEFENDS THE ABSENT. The three Hogansa, whom we have lost sight of for some time, were, as our readers already know, three most unadulterated ruffians, in every sense of that most respectable term. Yet, singular as it may appear, notwithstanding their savage brutality, they were each and all possessed of a genius for me- 'I chanical inventions and manual dexterity that was perfectly astonishing when the low cliaracter of their moral and intellectual standard is considered. Kate Hogan, who from her position could not possibly be kept out of their secrets, at least for any length of time, was forced to notice of late that there was a much closer and more cautious intimacy between Hycy Burke and them, than she had ever observed before. She remarked besides, that not only was Teddy Phats excluded from their counsels, but she herself was sent out of the way, whenever Hycy paid them a visit, which uniformly occurred at a late hour in the night. Another circumstance also occurred about this time which puzzled her not a little, we mean the un- usual absence of Philip for about a fortnight from home. Now, there certainly is nothing more offen- sive, especially to a female, than the fact of exclud- ing her from the knowledge of any secret, a partici- 408 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. pation in which she may consider as a right. In her case she felt that it argued want of confidence, and as she had never yet betrayed any trust or se- cret reposed in her, she considered their conduct to- wards her, not merely as an insult, but such as en- titled them to nothing at her hands but resentment, and a determination to thwart their plans, whatever they might be, as soon as she should succeed in making herself acquainted with them. What excit- ed her resentment tlie more bitterly was the arrival of a straiige man and woman in company with Phi- lip, as she was able to collect, from the metropolis, to the former of whom they all seemed to look with much defei'ence as to a superior spirit. Of the se-*^ cret among them, this man and his wife were clearly in possession, as was evident from their whisperings and other conversations, which they held apart, and uniformly out of her hearing. It is true, the stran- gers did not reside with the Hogans, but in a small cabin adjacent to that in w'hich Finigan taught his school. Much of the same way of thinking was ho- nest Teddy Phats, whom they had now also aban- doned, or rather completely cast off, and what was still worse, deprived of the whole aparatus for dis- tillation, which although purchased by Hycy Burke’s money, they very modestlty appropriated to them- selves. Teddy, however, as well as Kate, knew that they were never cautious without good reason, and as it had pleased them to cut him, as the phrase goes, so did he as Kate had done, resolve within jjitnself to penetrate their secret, if human ingenuity could effect it. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 409 In tins position they wore, when honest Philip re- turned, as we have said, after a fortnight’s absence, from suine place or places unknown. The mystery, liowever, did not end liere. Kate observed, tliat as before, much of their conversation was held aloof from her, or in such enigmatical phrases and whis- perings, as rendered the substance of it perfectly in- scrutable to her. She observed, besides, that two of tliem were frequently absent from the kiln where they lived; but that one always remained at home to make certain that she should not follow or dog them to the haunt they frequented. This precau- tion oil their part was uniform. As it was, how- ever, Kate did not seem to notice it. On the con- trary, no one could exhibit a more finished appear- ance of stupid indifference than she assumed upon these occasions, even although she knew by the re- moval of the tools or a portion of them, that her friends were engaged in some business belonging to their craft. In this manner, matters proceeded for some weeks subsequent to the period of Philip’s return. Kate also observed with displeasure, that, among all those who joined in the outcry against Bryan M’Mahon, none made his conduct, sucli as it was conceived to have been, a subje ct of more brutal and bitter triumph than the Hogans. The only circumstance connected with him which grieved them to the heart, was the fact that the distillation plot had not ruined him as they expected it would have done. His disgrace, however, and unjust eject- ment from Ahadarra filled them with that low, ruf- 18 410 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. fianly sense of exultation, than which, coming from such scoundrels, there is scarcely anything more detestable in human nature. One evening about this time they were sitting about the fire, the three brothers, Kate, and the young un licked savages of the family, when Philip, after helping himself to a glass of spirits, said, — “ At any rate, there'll be no match between Miss Kathleen and that vagabond, Bryan M’Mahon. I think we helped to put a nail in his coffin there, by gob.” “ Ay,” said Kate, “ an’ you may boast of it, you unmanly vagabone ; an’ yet 3^011 purtind to have a regard for the poor girl, an’ a purty way you tuck to sliow it — to have lier as she is, goin’ about wid a pale face an’ a broken heart. Don’t you see it’s her more than him you’re punishin’, you sav- age of hell ? ” “ You had betther keep your tongue off o’ me,” he replied; “I won’t get into grips wid you any more, you barge o’ blazes; but, if you provoke me wid bad language. I’ll give you a clink wid one o’ these sotherin’-irons that’ll put a clasp on your tongue.” ‘‘Never attempt that,” she replied fiercely, “ for, as sure as you do. I’ll have this knife,” showing him a large, sharp pointed one, which, in accordance wMth the customs of her class, hung by a black belt of strong leather from her side — “ I’ll have this cus- tomer here greased in your puddins. my buck, and, when the win’s out o’ you, see what you’ll be THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 411 worth -fit for Captain James's hounds; although I dunna hut tiie very dogs themselves is too clane to ait you.” Cotne,” said Bat, ‘‘we'll have no more o’ this; do you Philip, keep quiet wid your sotherln'-iron, and, as fi;r you. Kale, don't dhravv me upon you; na han an shin — it isn’t Pliilip you have. I say I'm rigiit well plaised that we helped to knock up the match.” “Don’t be too sure,” replied Kate, “that it is knocki'd up; don't now, mind my words; an’ take cire that, instead of knockin’ it up, you haven’t knocked yourselves down. Chew your cud upon that now.” “What does she mane?” asked Ked, looking on her with a baleful glance, in which might be read equal ferocily and alarm. “Why, traichery, of coorse,” replied Philip, in his deep, glowing voice. “ Kate,” said her husband, starting into something like an incipient fit of fury, but suddenly checking himself — “Kate, my hooey, what do you mane by them words?” “ What do I mane by them words?” she exclaim- ed, with an eye which turned on hitn with cool de- fiance ; “ pick that out o’ your lamin’, Bat, my pet. You can all ke p your saicrets ; an’ 111 let you know that I can keep mine.” “Be the holy St. Lucifer,” sai you mind yourself, Bar, my p= t, and all o’ yez.” “ What is the raison, ’ asked her husband, “ that I see you an' Nanny Peety’- colloguin’ an’ huggermug- gerin’ so often together of late?” “ Ah,’’ she replied, with a toss of disdain, “ what a manly fellow you are to want to get into women’s saicrets ! you tnay save your breath thongli.” “ Whatever you collogue about, all I say is, that I don’t like a bone in the same Nanny Peety’s body. She has an eye in her head that looks as if it knew one’s thoughts.” “An’ maybe it does. One thing T know, and ev« ry one knows it, that it’s a very purty eye.” “Tell her, then, to keep out o’ this; we want no spies here.’ “ Divil a word of it ; she’s my niece, an’ the king’s highw^ay is as free to her as it is to you or anybody else. She’ll be welcome to me any time she comes, an’ let me see who’ll dare to mislist her. She feels as she ought to do, an’ as every woman ought to do, ay, an’ every man, too, that is a man, or anything but a bi nte an’ a emw^ard — slie feels for that unfortunate, heart-broken girl ’iihout; an’ it’ll be a strange thing if them that brought her to what she’s sufferin’ won’t suffer tiiernselves y’et ; tliere’s a God above still,! hope, glory be to His nau)e ! Thraichery ! ” she ex- claimed ; “ah, you ill-rnirnh'd vill tins, it’s yourselves you’re thinkin’ of, an’ what you desarve. As for myself, it’s neither you nor your villainy that’s in my head, but the sorrowful heart that’s in that poor THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 413 girl ’itlioiit — av, an’ a broken one; for, indeeil, bro- ked it is; and it’s not long she’ll be troublin’ either friend or foe in this world. Tiie curse o’ glory upon you all, you villains, and upon every one that l)ad a hand in bringin’ her to this! ” llaviiiLT uttered these words, she put her cloak and bonnet upon her, and left the house, adding as she went out, “if it’s any pleasure to you to know it, I’ll tell you. I’m goiened her affliction; but it did not on that account succeed in enabling her to obliterate his image the more easily from her heart. The fact was, that despite the force and variety of the rumors that were abroad against him — and each succeeding week brought in some fresh instance of his duplicity aiid profligacy, thanks to the ingenious and fertile malignity of Ilycy the accomplished — despite of this, and despite of all, the natural reaction of her heart had set in — their past THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 415 endearments, their confidence, their tenderness, tlieir love, now began, after the first veliernent expression of pride and high principle had exhausted the offen- ded mind of its indignation, to gradually resume their influence o\er her. A review, besides, of her own conduct towards her lover was by no means satisfactory to her. Whilst she could not certainly but condemn him, slie felt as if she had judged him upo?i a pi inciple at once too cold and rigorous. In- deed, now that a portion of time had enabled her mind to cool, she could scarcely understand why it' was that she had passed so harsh a sentence U[) on him. She was not, however, capable of analyzing her own mind and feelings upon the occasion, or she might have known that her severity towards the man was the consequence, on her part, of that innate scorn and indignation which pure and lofty minds naturally entertain against everything disiionorable and base, and that it is a very difficult thing to dis- sociate the crime from the criminal, even in cases where the latter may have had a strong hold upon the affections of such a nobhi nature. Nay, the very fact of finding that one’s affections have been fixed upon a person capable of such di-honor, pro- duces a double portion of indignation at the discov- ery of their profligacy, because it supposes, in the first {)lace, that sometliing like imposture must have been practised upon us in s^'curing our affections, or what is still more degradifig, that we must have been materially devoid of common penetration, or we could not have suffered ourselves to become the dupe of craft and dissimulation. 416 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. Our high-minded heroine, however, had no other theory upon the subject of her own f eiing-^, than that she loved her religion and its pivcepts, ami de- tested every word il»at was at variance with truth, and every act inconsistent with honesty and that faithful integrity which resists temptation and cor- ruption in whatever plausible shapes they may ap- proach it. B." this, however, as it may, she now found that, as time advanced, her heart begin to fall into its original habits. Tlie tumult occasioned by the shock resulting from her lover’s want of integrity, had now nearly passed away, and tlie affection of tlie woman began to supersede the severity of the judge. By degrees she was enabled, as we have said, to look back upon her conduct, and to judge of her lover through the more softened medium of her reviving affection. This feeling gained upon her slowly but surely, until her conscience became alarmed at tiie excess of her own severity towards him. S'ill, how- ever, she would occasionally return, as it were, to a contemplation of his delinquency, and endeavor from an unconscious principle of self-love, to work herself up into that lofty liatred of dishonor which had prompted his condemnation ; but the eff -rt was in vain. Every siK^cessive review of his guilt was at- tended by a consciousness that she had been righte- ous overmuch, and that the consequences of his treason, even against their common religion, were not only rapidly diminishing in her heart, but yield- ing to something that very nearly resembled re- morse. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHAPARRA. 41T Such was the state of her feelings on tiie day when Kate Hogan and her male relatives indulge(i in the friendly and afieclioiute dialogue we have just de- tailed. Her heart was smitten in fact with sorrow for the harsh part slie iiad taken against her lover, and she only waited for an opportunity to pour otit a full confession of all she felt into the friendly ear of her sister. Gerald Cavanagh’s family at this period was darkened by a general spirit of depression and gloom. Their brother James, from whatever cause it may have proceeded, seemed to be nearly as much cast down as his sister; and were it not that Cavanagh himself and his wife sustained themselves by a hope that Kathleen might ultimately relax so far as to ad- mit, as she had partly promised to do, the proposals of Edward Burke, it would have been difficult to find so much suffering apart from death under the same roof. On the day in question, our friend O’Finigan, whose habits of inte/nperance had by no means di- minished, called at Cavanagh’s, as he had been in the haV>it rj doing. Poor Kathleen was now suffer- ing, besides, ufuler the consequences of the injunction not to mention M'Mahords name, which she had im- posed upon her own family — an injuncti-m which they had ever since faithfully observed. It was quite evid^mt from the unusiially easy fluermy of O'Finigan’s manner, tliat he had not confined his beverages, during the day, to rn^^re water. Hanna, on seeing him enter, said to Kathleen, in a whis- per,— 418 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. ‘‘Hadn’t you better come out and take a walk, Kathleen ? This O’Fiuigan is almost tipsy, and you know he’ll be talking about certain subjects you don’t wish to hear.” “Time enough, dear Hanna,” she replied, with a sorrowful look at her sister, “ my. heart is so full of suffering and pain that almost anything will relieve it. You know I was always amused by Finigan’s chat.” Her sister, who had not as yet been made acquaint- ed with the change which had taken place in her heart, on hearing these words looked at her closely, and smiled sorrowfully, but in such a manner as if she had at that moment experienced a sensation of pleasure, if not of hope. Hitherto whenever a neigh- bor or stranger came in, Kathleen, fearing that the forbidden name might become the topic of conversa- tion, always retired, eitlier to another room or left the house altogether, in order to relieve her own family from the painful predicament in which their promise of silence to her had placed them. On this occasion, however, Hanna perceived with equal sur- prise and pleasure that she kept lier ground. “ Sit ye, merry jinteels !” said Finigan, as he en- tered; “I hope I see you all in good health and spirits; I hope I do; although I am afraid if what fame — an’ by the way, Mrs. Cavaiiagh, my classi- cality tells me, that the poet Maro blundered like a Hibernian, when he made the same fame a trumpeter, in wliich, wid the exception of one point, he was completely out of keeping. There’s not in all lithe- rature another instance of a female trumpeter; and THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 419 for sound raisons— if the fair sex were to get posses- sion of the luba, God help the world, lor it would soon be a noisy one. flowever, let me reeolleet my- self — where was I? Oh! ay — I am afraid that if what fame says — an’ by the way, her trumpet must have been a speaking one — be true, that there’s a fair individual here whose spirits are not of the most ex- alted character ; and indeed, and as I am the noblest work of God — an honest man — I feel sorry to hear the fact.” The first portion of this address, we need scarcely say, was the only part of it which was properly un- derstood, if we except a word or two at the close. “God save you, Mistlier Finigan.” “ O Finigan, it you plase, Mrs. Cavanagh.” “ Well, Well,” she replied, “ O'Finigan, since it must be so ; but in troth I can’t always remember it, Misther Finigan, in regard that you didn’t always stand out for it yourself. Is there any news stirrin’, you that’s abroad V” “ Not exactly news, ma’am ; but current reports that are now no novelty. The M’Mahons — ” “ Oh, never mind them^'* exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh, glancing at her daughter, “if you have any other news let us hear it — pass over the M’Mahons — they’re not worth our talk, at least some o’ them.’ “ Pardon me, Mrs. Cavanagh if Achilles at the head of his myrmidons was to inform me to that ef- fect, I’d-tell him he liad mistaken his customer. My pritjciple, ma’am — and ’tis one I glory in — is to de- fend ihe absent in gineral, for it is b uh charitable and ginerous to do so — in gineral, I say ; but when 420 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. I know that they are unjustly aspersed, T contera- plaie it as an act of duty on my part to vindicate tliem.” “ Well,” replied Mrs. Cavanagh, “ that’s ali very right an’ thrue, Mr. Finigan.” “It is, Mr. Finig — O’Finigan,” observed James Cavanagh, who was present, “ and your words are a credit and an honor to you.” “ Thanks, James, for the compliment; for it is but truth. The scandal 1 say (he proceeded without once regarding the bint thrown out by Mrs. Cava- nagli) which has been so studiously disseminated against Bryan M’Mahon — spare your nods and winks, Mrs. Cavanagh, for if you winked at me with as many eyes as Argus had, and nodded at me wid as many beads as Hydra, or that baste in the lievelayiions. I’d not suppress a syllable of truth ; — no, ma’am, the suppressio verVs no I mbit of mine; and I say and as- sert— ay, and asseverate^ — that that honest and high- spirited young man, named Bryan or Bernard M Ma- hon, is the victim of villany and falsehood — ay, of devilish hatred and ingenious but cowardly vitupe- ration.” “Kathleen,” whispered her sister, “ will you come out, darlin’? this talk must be painful to you.” Kathleen gave her a look of such mingled sorrow and entreaty as went to l»er h(*art. Hanna., whose liead had bi en lovingly reclining on her sister's bosom, pressed her gently but affectionately to her heart, and made no reply. “You wor always a friend of his,” replied Mrs. Cavanagh, “ an’ of course you spake as a friend.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 421 Yes,” said Finigan, “I always was a friend of* his, because I always knew his honesty, his love of truth, his hatred of a mane action, ay, and his gene- rosity and courage. I knew him from the very egg, I may say — ab ovo — Mrs. Cavanagh ; it was I in- stilled his first principles into him. Oh ! I know well ! I never had a scholar I was so proud out of. Hycy Burke was smart, quick, and cunning; but then he was traicherous — something of a coward when he had his match — strongly additted to fiction in most of his narratives, and what was still a worse point about him, he had the infamous ingenuity, whenever he had a point to gain — such as belying a boy and taking away his characiher — of making truth di>charge all the blackguard duties of falsehood. Oh ! I know them both well! But who among all [ ever enlightened wid instruction was the boy tliat always tould the truth, even when it went against himself? — why, Bryan M’Mahoh. Who ever de- fended the absent? — why, Bryan M’Alahon. Who ever and always took the part of the weak and de- fenceless against the strong and tyrannical? — why, Bryan M’Mahon. Who fought for his religion, too, when the young heretics used to turn it, or try to turn it, into ridicule — ay, and when cowardly and traicherous Hycy used to sit quietly by, and either put the insult in his pocket, or curry favor wid the young sneering vagabonds that abused it ? And yet, at the time Hycy was a thousand times a great- er little bigot than Bryan. The one, whi a juvenile rabble at his back, three to one, was a tyrant over the young scisraalics; whilst Bryan, like a brave 422 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. youth as he was, ever and always protected them against the disadvantage of numbers, and insistt*d on showing them fair play. I am warm, Mrs. Cava- nagh,” he continued, “and heat, you know, gene- rates thirst. I know that a drop o’ the right sort used to be somewhere undher this same roof; but I’m afraid if the fama clamosa be thrue, that the side of the argument I have taken isn’t exactly such as to guarantee me a touch at the native — that is, taking it for granted that there’s any in the house.” This request was followed by a short silence. The Cavanaghs all, w’ith the exception of Kathleen, looked at each other, but every eye was marked either by indecision or indifference. At length Hanna looked at her sister, and simply said, “ dear Kathleen ! ” “ He has done,” replied the latter, in a low voice, “ what I had not the generosity to do — he has de- fended the absent.” “ Darling Kathleen,” Hanna whispered, and then pressed her once more to her heart. “You must have it, Mr. 0‘Finigan,” said she — “ you must have it, and that immediately;” and as she spoke, she proceeded to a cupboard from which she produced a large black bottle, filled with that peculiar liquid to which our worthy pedagogue was so devotedly addicted. “ Ah,” said he, on receiving a bumper from the fair hand of Hanna, “let the M’Mahons alone for the old original —indeed I ought to say — aboriginal hospitality. Thanks, Miss Hanna; in the mean THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 423 time I will enunciate a toast, and although we shall not draw very strongly upon sentiment for the terms, it shall be plain and pithy ; liere is ‘ that the saddle of infamy may be soon placed U)»on the right horse,’ and maybe there’s an individual not a thou- sand miles from us, and wlio is besides not alto- gether incognizant of tlie learned languages, includ- ing a tolerably comprehensive circle of mathema- tics, who will, to a certain extent, contribute to the consummation of that most desirable event; here then, I repate, is the toast — ‘may the saddle of in- famy soon be placed upon the right horse ! ’” Having drunk ofi the glass, he turned the mouth of it dowMi upon his corduroy breeches, as an intima- tion that he might probably find it necessary to have recourse to it again. Hanna observed, or rather we should say, felt, that as Finigan proceede*! wdth his reminiscences of M’Mahon’s school-boy days and the enumeration of his virtues, her sister’s heart and bosom quivered with deep and almost irrepressible emotion. There was a good deal of enthusiasm in the man’s man- ner, because he w’as in earnest, and it was quite evi- dent that Kathleen’s spirit had caugiit it as he went along, and that Imr heart recognized the truth of the picture which he was drawing. We say she literally felt the quiverings of her sister’s heart against her own, and to do the admirable girl jus* ti *0, she rt j oiced to recognize these manifestations of returning affection. “It was only yesterday,” continued Finicran, re- suming the discourse, “ that I met Bryan M’Mahon, 424 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. and by the way, he has sorrow and distress, poor fellow, in his face. ‘ Bryan,’ said I, ‘is it true that you and your father’s family are preparing to go to that rcfagium peccatorurn^ America — tliat over- grown cupping-glass which is drawing the best blood of our country out of it ?’ “ ‘ The people of Ireland,’ he r plied, ‘ have a right to bless God that there is such a country to fly to, and to resave them from a land where they’re ne- glected and overlooked. It is true, Mr. O’Finigan,’ he proceeded — ‘we have nothing in this country to live for now.’ “ ‘ And so you are preparing ?’ I asked. “ ‘ I ought rather say,’ he replied, ‘that we are prepared ; we go in another month; I only wish we were there already.’ ‘‘ ‘ I fear, Bryan,’ said I, ‘that you have not been well t rated of late.’ He looked at me with some- thiiig like surprise, but said nothing ; ‘ and in a quarter, I added, that was the last from which you were prepared to expect justice without mercy.’ “‘I don’t understand you,’ he replied sharply; ‘ what do you mean ?’ “‘Brvan,’ said I, ‘I scorn a moral circumben- dibus where the direct truth is necessary; I have heard it said, and I fear it is burlhened wid too much uncomfortable veracity, that Katldeen Cava- nagh has donned the black cap^ in doing the judi- cial upon you, and that she considers her sentence equal to the laws of the Medes and Persians, un- * Alluding to the practice of putting on the black cap when tlie Judge condemns a felon to death. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 42o clianireable — or, like those of our own blesst*d church — wid reverence be the analogy made— allogelljcr infallible.’ ills eye blazed as 1 spoke; he caught me here by the Cv>llar wid a grip that made me quake — ‘ Another word against Kathleen Cavauagii,’ lie replied, ‘and I will shake every joint of your carcass out of its pLice.’ IIis little sister, Doia, was wid him at the time; ‘ Give him a shake or two as it is,’ she abded, egging him on, ‘ for whit he has said already;’ throth she’s a lively little lady that, au’ if it wasn’t tliat she has a pair of dark shining eyes, and sweet features— ay, and as coaxin’ a figure of her own — however, surra may care, somehow, I defy any one to be angry wid her.” “ Come, Mr. O’Finigan,” said James, approach- ing him, “ you must have another glass.” “ Well no, James,” he replied, “ 1 think not.” “Faith, but I say you will; if it was only to hear what Dora — hem — what Bryan said.” ‘‘Very w’ell,” said the master, allowing him to take the glass which he received again brimming “ thanks, James. “‘ Well,’ said Bryan, lettin’ go my collar, ‘blame any one you like; blame me, blame Vauston, blame Chevydale, Fethertonge, anybody, everybody, the Priest, the Bishop, the Pope, — but don’t dare to blame Kathleen Cavanagh.’ “ ‘ Why,’ said I, ‘has she been right in her con- demnation of you ?’ “‘She has,’ he replied, with a warmth of enthusi- asm which lit up his whole features ; ‘ she has done nothing but what was right. She just acted as she 426 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. ought, and all I can say is, that I know Tin not worthy of her, and never was. Gud bless hvr !’ ‘ And don’t let 7ne hear,’ said D;>ra, taking up the dialogue, ‘that ever you’ll inanition her name wid disrespect — mark that, Mr. O’Finigan, or it’ll be worse for you a ih rifle.’ “ Her brother looked on her wid complacent af- fection, and patting her on the head, said, ‘ Come, darling, don't beat him now. You see the risk you run,’ he added, as they went away, ‘ so don’t draw down Dora’s vengeance on your head. She might forgive you an offence against herself \ but slie won’t forgive you one against Kathleen Cavanagh ; and. Mister O’Finigan, neither xoill ” “ Masther,” said James Cavanagh, “ you’ll stop to-night with us ?” “Ko, James, I have an engagement of more im- portance than you could ever dhrame of, and about — but I’m not free or at liberty to develop the plot — for plot it is — at any greater length. Many thanks to you in the mane time for your hospitable intentions; but before I go, I have a word to say. Now, what do you think of that young man’s gine- rosity, who would rather have himself thought guilty than have her thought wrong ; for, whisper, — I say he’s not goilty, and maybe — but, no mat- ther, time will tell, and soon tell, too, plaise God.” So saying he took up his hat, and politely wished them a pleasant evetiing, but firmly refused to taste another drop of liquor, “lest,” he added, “it might denude him of tlie necessary qualifications for ac- complishing the enterprise on which he was bint.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 42T When he was gone, Kathleen brought her sister to their own room, and throwing herself on her bo- som, she spoke not, but wept calmly and in silence for about twenty minutes. “ Kathleen,” said Hanna, “ I am glad to see this, and I often wished for it.” “ Whisht, dear Hanna,” she replied ; ‘‘ don’t speak to me at present. I’m not fit to talk on that unfor- tunate subject yet. ‘Forgiveus our trespasses as we — we — forgive them that trespass against us ! ’ Oh! Hanna darling, how have /prayed?” They then rejoined the family. 428 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. CHAPTER XXIII. HARHY Clinton’s benevolence defeated — nis uncle's TREACHERY— the MARRIAGE OF KATH- LEEN AND EDWARD BURKE DETERMINED ON. This partial restoration of M’Mahori to the affec- tions ol’Katlileen Cavanagh might have terminated in a full and perfect reconciliation between them, were it not for circumstances which we are about to detail. From what our readers know of young Clin- ton, we need not assure them that, although wild and fond of pleasure, he washy no means devoid of either generosity or principle. There were indeed few individuals, perhaps scarcely any, in the neigh- borhood, who felt a deeper or manlier sympathy for the adverse fate and evil repute which had come so smld^ nly, a?)d, as he believed in hU soul, undeserv- edly upon Bryan M’Mahon. He resolved accord- ingly to make an effort for the purpose of setting the unfortunate young man’s character right with the public, or if not vuth the public, at least in that quarter where such a service might prove most l)en- eficial to hitn, we mean in Gerald Cavanagh’s famdy. Accordingly, one morning after breakfast as his uncle sat reading the nnwspaper, he addressed him as follows : — “ By the way, uncle, you must excuse me for ask- ing you a question or two.” THE EMIGPwANTS OF AHADARRA. 429 “ Certainly, Harry. Did I not often desire you never to ijesitale asking me any quesiion you wish'? Why should you not Tiiis, however, may be trenching a little upon the secrets of your — your — profession.” “ What is it ? — what is it ? ” “You remember the seizure you made some time ago in the tovvnland of Ahadarra?” “ I do perfectly well.” “Now, uncle, excuse me. Is it fair to ask you if you know the person who furnished you with information on that subject. Mark, I don’t wish nor desire to know his name; I only ask \iyou know it ? ” “ No, I do not.” “ Do you not suspect it ? It came to you anony- mously, did it not?” “ Why, you are raking me with a fire of cross- examination, Harry ; but it did.” “ Should you wish to know, uncle ?” “ Urnloubtedly, I wnsh to know those to whom we are indebted for that fortunate event.” “Don’t say we^ uncle ; speak only for yourself.” “I should wish to know, though.” “ Pray have you the letter?” “ I have ; you will find it in one of the upper pigeon holes ; I can’t say which ; towards the left hand. I placed it there yesterday, as it turned up among some other communications of a similar stamp.” In a few moments his nephew returned, with the precious document in his hands. 430 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “Now, uncle,” he proceeded, as he seated him- self at the table, “ you admit that this is the letter ? ” “I admit — why, you blockhead, dues not the let- ter itself prove as much ? ” “Well, then, I know the scoundrel who sent you this letter.” “ I grant you he is a scoundrel, Harry ; nobody, I assure you, des[dses his tools more than I do, e, as tliey now are, a class of men, some absolutely bankrupt, and more on the THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 445 very eve of it; and all this, to use a commercial phrase painfully appropriate , — because they neglect their business. Who, until lately, ever heard of an Irish landlord having made the subject of property, or the princi- ples upon which it ought to be administered, his study ? By this we do not mean to say that they did not occasionally bestow a thought upon theii own interests ; but, in doing so, they were guided by erroneous principles that led them to place these interests in antagonism with those of the people. They forgot that poverty is the most fertile source of population, and that in every neglected and ill regulated state of society, they invariably reproduce each other; but the landlords kept the people poor, and now they are surprised, forsooth, at their pov- erty and the existence of a superabundant popula- tion. “We know,” said they, “ that the people are poor; but we know also that, by subsisting merely upon the potato, and excluding better food and a higlier state of comfort, of course tlie more is left for the landlord.” This in general was their principle — and its consequences are now upon themselves. This, however, is a subject on which it is not our intention to expatiate here. What we say is, that, in all the relations of civil life, the people were shamefully and ciiminally neglected. They were left without education, permitted to remain ignorant of the arts of life, and of that industrial knowledge on which, or rather on the application of which, all public prosperity is based. 446 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. And yet, although the people have great errors, wiihout which no people so long neglected can ever be found, and, although they have been for centuries familiarised with suffering, yet it is absolute dread of poverty that drives them from their native soil. They understand, in fact, the progress of pauperism too well, and are willing to seek fortune in any clime, rather than abide its approach to themselves — an approach which they know is in their case inevita- ble and certain. For instance, the very class of our countrymen that constitutes the great bulk of our emigrants is to be found among those independent small farmers who appear to understand something like comfort. One of these men holding, say six- teen or eighteen acres, has a family we will suppose of four sons and three daughters. This family grows up, the eldest son marries, and the father, having no other way to provide for him, sets apart three or four acres of his farm on which he and his wife settle. The second comes also to marry, and hopes his father won’t treat him worse than he treated his brother. lie accordingly gets four acres more, and settles down as his brother did. In this manner the holding is frittered away and subdivided among them. For the first few years — that is, be- fore their children rise — they may struggle tolerably well; but, at the expiration of twenty or twenty- five years, each brother finds himself with such a family as his little strip of land cannot adequately support, setting aside the claims of the landlord altogether ; for rent in these cases is almost out of the question. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 447 What, then, is the consequenee ? Why, that here is to be found a population of paupers squatted upon patches ot lainl quite incapal>le of their sup- port; and in seasons of* famine and sickness, especi- ally in a country where labor is below its value, and employment inadequate to tiie demand that is for it, this same population becomes a helpless burthen upon it — a miserable addition to the mass of poverty and destitution under which it groans. Such is the history of one class of emigrants in this unhappy land of ours; and what small farmer, with such a destiny as that we have detailed staring him and his in the face, would not strain every nerve that he might fly to any country, — rather than re- main to encounter the frightful state of suffering which awaits him in this. Such, then, is an illustration of the motives which prompt one class of emigrants to seek their fortune in other climes, while it is yet in their power to do so. There is still a higher class, however, consist- ing of strong farmers possessed of some property and wealth, who, on looking around them, And that the mass of destitution which is so rapidly increas- ing in every direction must necessarily press upon them in time, and ultimately drag them down to its own level. But even if the naked evils which per- vade society among us were not capable of driving these independent yeomen to other lands, we can assure our legislators that what these circumstances, appalling as they are, may fail in accomplishing, the recent act for the extra relief of able-bodied paupers will complete — an act which, instead of being 448 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. termed a Relief Act, ought to be called an act for the ruin of the country and the confiscation of its property, both of which, if not repealed, it will ulti- mately accomplish. We need not mention here cases of individual neglect or injustice upon the part of landlords and agents, inasmuch as we have par- tially founded our narrative upon a fact of this de- scription. It has been said, we know, and in many instances with truth, that the Irish are a negligent and care- less people — without that perseverance and enter- prise for which their neighbors on the other side of the channel are so remarkable. We are not, is point of fact, about to dispute the justice of this charge ; but, if it be true of the people, it is only so indi- rectly. Is is true of their condition and social cir- cumstances in this country, rather than of any con- stitutional deficiency in either energy or industry that is inherent in their character. In their own country they have not adequate motive for action — no guarantee that industry shall secure them in- dependence, or that the fruits of their labor may not pass, at the will of their landlords, into other hands. Many, therefore, of the general imputations that are brought against them in these respects, ought to be transferred rather to the depressing cir- cumstances in which they are placed than to the people themselves. As a proof of this, we have only to reflect upon their industry, enterprise, and success, when relieved from the pressure of these circum- stances in other countries — especially in America, where exertion and industry never, or at least sel- THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 449 dora, fail to arrive at comfort and independence. JMake, then, the position of the Irishman reasonable — such, tor instance, as it is in any other country but his own — and he can stand the test of comparison witli any man. Not only, however, are the Irish flying from the evils that are to come, but they feel a most affec- tionate anxiety to enable all those who are bound to them by the ties of kindred and domestic affection to imitate their example. There is not probably to be found in records of human attachment such a beautiful history of unforgotten affection, as that presented by the heroic devotion of Irish emigrants to those of their kindred who remain here from in- ability to accompany them.* * The following extract, from a very sensible pamphlet by Mr. Murray, is so appropriate to this subject, that we cannot deny ourselves the pleasure of quoting it here : — “ You have been accustomed to grapple with and master figures, whether as representing the produce of former tariffs, or in con- structing new ones, or in showing the income and expenditure of the greatest nation on the earth. Those now about to be pre- sented to you, as an appendix to this communication, are small, very small, in their separate amounts, and not by any means in the aggregate of the magnitude of the sums you have been accus- tomed to deal with ; but they are largo separately, and heaving large in the aggregate, in all that is connected with the higher and nobler parts of our nature — in all that relates to and evinces the feelings of the heart towards those who are of our kindred, no matter by what waters placed asunder or by what distance separated. They are large, powerfully large, in reading lessons of instruction to the statesman and philanthropist, in dealing with a warm-hearted people for their good, and placing them in a position of comparative comfort to that in which they now are. The figures represent the particulars of 7,917 separate Bills of Exchange, varying in amount from £1 to £10 each— a few ex- 450 THE EMIGRANT^ OF AHADARRA. Let it not be saiti, then, that the Irishman is defi- cient in any of the moral elements or natural quali- ties which go to the formation of such a character as might be made honorable to himself and bene- ficial to the country. By the success of his exertions in a foreign land, it is clear that he is not without industry, enterprise, and perseverance; and we have no hesitation in saying that, if he were 6U{)plied at liome with due encouragement and adequate motive, liis good qualities could be developed with as much zeal, energy, and success as ever characterized them in a foreign country. ceedin^ the latter sum ; so many separate offerings from the natives of Ireland who have heretofore emigrated from its shores, sent to their relations and friends in Ireland, drawn and paid between the 1st of January and the 15th of De- cember, 1846 — not quite one year ; and amount in all to £41,261 93. lid. But this lis^, long though it be, does not measure the num- ber and amount of such interesting oflferings. It contains only about one-third part of the whole number and value of such re- mittances that have crossed the Atlantic to Ireland during the 349 daj’s of 1846. The data from which this list is compiled en- able the writer to estimate with confidence the number and amount drawn otherwise; and he calculates that the entire num- ber, for not quite one year, of such Bills, is 24,000, and the amount £125,000, or, on an average, £5 4s. 2d. each. Tliey are sent from husband to wife, from ^ather to child, from child to father, mother and grand-parents, ^rom sister to brother, and the reverse; and from and to those united by all the tics of b’ood and friendship ’that bind us together on earth. In the list, you will observe that these offerings of affection are classed according to the parts of Ireland they are drawn upon, and you will find tnat they are not confined to one spot of it, but are general as regards the whole country.” — Ireland^ its Ptemd Co^tdiUon and Future Pro'^peeP. In a letter addressed to the Right Honourable Sir Robert Ped, Baronet, bu R hert Murray^ Esq. Bub- lin : James M' Glashan, 21 i>’ Oiler street^ 1847. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 451 We trust the reader may understand what the condition of the country, at the period of our narra- tive to which we refer, must have been, when such multitudes as we have described rushed to our great seapoils in order to emigrate ; the worst feature in this annual movement being that, whilst the decent, the industrious, and the moral, all influenced by creditable motives, went to seek independence in a distant land, the idle, the ignorant, and the desti- tute necessarily remain at home — all as a burthen, and too many of them as a disgrace to the country. Our friends the M’Mahons, urged by motives at once so strong and painful, were not capable of re- sisting the contagion for emigration which, under the circumstances we have detailed, was so rife among the people. It was, however, on their part a distre^ising and mournful resolve. From the mo- ment it was made a gloom settled upon the whole family. Nothing a few months before had been far- ther from their thoughts ; but now there existed such a combination of arguments for their depar- ture, as influenced Bryan and his father, in spite of their hereditary attachment to Ahadarra and Carri- glass. Between them and the Cavanaghs ever since Gerald had delivered Kathleen’s message to Bryan there was scarcely any intercourse. Hanna, ’tis true, and Dora had an opportunity of exchanging a few words occasionally, but although the former felt much anxiety for a somewhat lengthened and if possible confidential conversation with her sparkling little friend, yet the latter kept proudly if not haught- ily silent on one particular subject, feeling as she 452 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. did, that anything like a concession on her part was humiliating, and might be misconstrued into a dis- position to compromise the independence of her bro- ther and family. But even poor Dora, notwithstand- ing her affectionate heart and high spirit, had her own sorrows to contend with, sorrows known only to her brother Bryan, who felt disposed to befriend her in them as far as he could. So indeed would every one of the family had they known them, for we need scarcely say that the warm and generous girl was the centre in which all their affections met. And this indeed was only justice to her, inasmuch as she was willing on any occasion to sacrifice her interests, her wishes, or anything connected with her own welfare, to their individual or general hap- piness. We have said, however, that she had her own sorrows, and this was true. From the moment she felt assured that their emigration to America was certain, she manifested a depression so profound and melancholy, that the heart of her brother Bryan, who alone knew its cause, bled for her. This by the rest of the family was imputed to the natural regret she felt, in common with themselves, at leaving the old places for ever, with this differ- ence to be sure — they imagined that she felt the sep- aration more acutely than they did. Still, as the period for their departure approached, there was not one of the family, notwithstandiiig what she felt herself, who labored so incessantly to soothe and sustain the spirits of her father, wlio was fast sink- ing under the prospect of being ‘‘ forever removed,” as he said, “from the places bis heart had grown THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 453 into.” She was in fact the general consoler of the family, and yet her eye scarcely ever met that of her brother that a tear did not tremble in it, and she felt disposed to burst out into an agony of unre- strained grief. It was one evening in the week previous to their departure, that she was oti her return from Bally- macan, when on passing a bend of the road between Carriglass and Fenton’s farm, she met the cause of the sorrow which oppressed her, in the handsome ])erson of James Cavanagh, to whom she had been for more than a year and a half deeply and de- votedly attached, but without the knowledge of any individual living, save her lover himself and her brotlier Bryan. On seeing him she naturally started, but it was a start of pleasure, and she felt her cheek flush and again get pale, and her heart palpitated, then was still a moment, and again resumed its tumultuous })ulsations. “ Blessed be God, my darlin’ Dora, that I’ve met you at last,” said James; “in heaven’s name how did it happen that we haven’t met for such a length of time? ” “I’m sure that’s more than I can tell,” replied Dora, “ or rather it’s what you and both I know the cause of too well.” “ Ah, poor Dora,” he exclaimed, “for your sake I don’t Vrdsh to spake about it at all ; it left me many a sore heart when I thought of you.” Dora’s natural pale cheek mantled, and her eyes deepened with a beautiful severity, as she hastily 454 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. turned them on him and said, “ what do you mane, James ?” “ About poor Bryan’s conduct at the election,” he replied, “ and that fifty-pound note; and may hell consume it and Inm that tempted him with it ! ” “ Do you forget,” she said, “ that you’re spaking to his sister that knows the falsehood of it all ; an’ how dare you in my presence attempt to say or think that Bryan M’Mahon would or could do a mane or dishonest act? I’m afeard, James, there’s a kind of low suspicion in your family that’s not right, and I have my reasons for thinking so. I fear there’s a want of true generosity among you; and if I could be sure of it, I tell you now, that whatever it might cost me, I’d never — but what am I sayia’ ? that’s past.” “Past! oh, why do you spake that way, Dora dear?” “ It’s no matter what I may suffer myself,” she re- plied ; “ no matter at all about that ; but wanst and for ail, I tell you that let what may happen. I’m not the girl to go into a family that have treated my dear brother as yours has done. Your sister’s con- duct has been very harsh and cruel to the man she was to be married te.” “ My sister, Dora, never did anything but what was right.” “ Well, then, let her go and marry the Pope, with reverence be it spoken, for I don’t know any other husband that’s fit for her. I’d like to see the girl that never did anything wrong ; it’s a sight I never saw yet, I know.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 455 “Dora, dear,” replied her lover, “I don’t blame you for being angry. I know that such a load of disgrace upon any family is enough to put one past their temper. I don’t care about that, however,” he proceeded; “if he had betrayed his church and his country ten times over, an’ got five hundred pounds instead of fifty, it wouldn’t prevent me from makin’ you my wife.” Her eyes almost emitted fire at this unconscious- Iv offensire lanojuage of Cavanagh. She calmed herself, however, and assumed a manner that was cool and cuttingly ironical. “Wouldn’t you, indeed?” she replied; “dear me! T have a right to* be proud of that; and so you’d be mane enough to marry into a family blackened by disgrace, I thought you had some decent pride, James.” “Butyow have done nothing wrong, Dora,” he replied; “you’re free from any blame of that kind.” “I have done nothing wrong, haven’t I?” she returned, “ Ay, a thousand things — for, thank God, I’m not infallible like your sister. Haven’t I sup- ported my brother in every tiling he did ? and I tell you that if I had been in his place I’d just ’a’ done what he did. . What do you think o’ me now ? ” “ Why, that every word you say, and every lively look — ay, or angry if you like — that you give — makes me love you more and more. An’ plase God, mv dear Dora, I hope soon to see you my own dar- lin’ wife.” “That’s by no means a certain affair, James; 456 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. an’ don’t rely upon it. Before ever I become your wife Kathleen must change her conduct to my brollier.” ‘‘Deed and I’m afraid that she’ll never do, Dora.” “Then the sorra ring ever I’ll put on you while there’s breath in my body.” “ Why, didn’t she give him three months to clear himself?” “Did she, indeed? And do you think that any young man of spirit would pay attention to such a stilted prhle as that? It was her business to send for him face to face, and to say — ‘Bryan M’Mahon, I never knew you or one of your family to tell a lie or do a dishonest or disgraceful act ’ — and here as she spoke the tears of that ancient integrity and hereditary pride which are more precious relics in a family than the costlies jewels that ever spark- led in the sun, sprang from her eyes — ‘ and now, Bryan M’Mahon, I ax no man’s word but your own — I ax no other evidence but your own — I put it to your conscience — to that honor that has never yet been tarnished by any of your family, I say I put it to yourself, here face to face with the girl that loves you — and answ^er me as you are in the presence of God — did you do what they, charge you with ? .Did you do wrong knowdngly and deliber- ately, and against your own conscience?’ ” Tfie animated sparkle of her face w^as so delight- ful and fascinating that her lover attempted to press her to his bosom; but she would not suffer it. “ Behave now,” she said firmly; “ oorra bit — no^’ she proceeded; “and whilst all the world w^as THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 457 against him, runnin’ him down and blackenin’ him — was slie ever the girl to stand up behind his back and defend him like a — hem — defend him, I say, as a girl timt loved him ought, and a generous girl would?” ‘‘ Bat how could she when she believed him to be wrong ? ” Why did she believe him to be wrong upon mere hearsay ? and granting that he was wrong! do you think now if you had done what they say he did, (and they lie that say it), aii’ that I heard the world down on you for your first slip, do you think, I say, that I’d not defend you out of clane contrari- ness, — and to vex them — ay, w^ould 1.” “ 1 know, darlin’, that you’d do everything that’s generous an’ right; but settin’ that affair aside, my dear Dora, what are ymu and I to do ? ” “ I don’t know what we’re to do,” she replied ; “ it’s useless for you to ax me from my father now ; for he wouldn’t give me to you,— sorra bit.” “But you’ll give me yourself, Dora, darling.” “Not without his consent, no nor with it, — as the families stand this moment ; for I tell you again that the sorra ring ever I'll put on you till your sister sends for my brother, axes his pardon, and makes up with liiin, as slie o«igiit to do. Oh why, James dear, should she be so harsh upon him,” she said, softening at once; “she that is so good an’ so fault- less afiher all ? but I suppose that’s the raison of it — she doesn’t know what it is to do anything that’s not right.” “Dora,” said her lover, “ don’t be harsh on Kath- 20 458 THE EMIGPwANTS OF AHADARRA. leen ; you don’t know what she’s sufferin’. Dora, her heart’s broke — broke.” The tears were already upon Dora’s cheeks, and her lover, too, was silent for, a moment. “ She has,” resumed the warm hearted girl, neither brother nor sister that loves her, or can love her, better than I do, afther all.” ‘‘But in our case, darling, what’s to be done?” he asked, drawing her gently towards hitn. “ I’ll tell you then what I’d recommend you to do,” she replied; “spake to my brother Bryan, and be guided by him. I must go now, it’s quite dusk.” There was a moment’s pause, then a gentle remon- strance on the part of Dora, followed, however, by that soft sound which proceeds from the pressure of youthful lips — after which she bade her lover a hasty good-night and hurried home. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 459 CHAPTER XXV. THE OLD PLACES — DEATH OF A PATRIARCH. As the day appointed for the auction of the M’MaboiJs’ stock, furniture, &c., &c., at Carriglass drew near, a spirit of deep and unceasing distress settled upon the whole family. It had not been their purpose to apprise the old man of any inten- tion on their part to emigrate at all, and neither indeed had they done so. The fact, however, reached him from the neighbors, several of whom, ignorant that it was the wish of his family to conceal the cir- cumstance from him — at least as long as they could — entered into conversation with him upon it, and by this means he became acquainted with their deter- mination. Age, within the last few months — for he was now past ninety — had made sad work with both his frame and intellect. Indeed, for some time past, he might be said to hover between reason and dotage. Decrepitude had set in with such ravages on his constitution that it could almost be marked by daily stages. Sometimes he talked with singular good sense and feeling; but on other occasions he either babbled quite heedlessly, or his intellect would wander back to scenes and incidents of earlier life, many of which he detailed with a pathos that was created and made touching by the unconscious- ness of his own state while relating them. Tney also observed that of late he began to manifest a 460 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. cliild-like cunning in many things connected with liiraself and family, which, though amusing from its very simplicity, afforded at the same time a certain indication that the good old grandfather whom they all loved so well, and whose benignant character had been only mellowed by age into a more plastic affection for them all, was soon to be removed from before their eyes, never again to diffuse among them that charm of domestic truth and love, and the holy influences of all those fine old virtues which ancestral integrity sheds over the heart, and transmits pure and untarnished fj’om generation to generation. On the day he made the discovery of their inten- tion, he had been sitting on a bench in the garden, a favorite seat of his for many a long year previous- ly ; “ And so,” said he to the neighbor with whom he had been speaking, “ you tell me that all our family is goin’ to America? ” “ Why, dear me,” replied his acquaintance, “ is it possible you didn’t know it ? ” “Ha ! ” he exclaimed, “ I undherstand now why they used to be whisperin’ together so often, and lookin’ at me; but indeed they might spake loud enough now, for I’m so deaf that I can hardly hear anything. Howaniver, Ned, listen — they all intend to go, you say; now listen, I say — I know one that won’t go; now, do you hear that? You needn’t say anything about it, but this I tell you — listen to me, what’s your name ? Barney, is it ? ” “Why, is it possible, you don’t know Ned Gorm- ley?” “Ay, Ned Gormley — och, so it is. Well listen, THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 461 Ned — there’s one they won’t bring ; I can tell you that — the sorra foot ever I’ll go to— to — where’s this you say they’re goin’ to, Jemmy?” Gormley shook his head. “Poor Bryan,” said he, “it’s nearly all over wid you, at any rate. To America, Bryaw,” he repeated, in a loud voice. “ Ay, to America. Well, the sorra foot ever I’ll go to America — that one thing I can tell them. I'm goin’ in. Oh ! never mind,” he exclaimed, on Gorm- ley offering him assistance, “ I’rn stout enough still ; stout an’ active still ; as soople as a two-year-ould, thank God. Don’t I bear up wonderfully ?” “Well indeed you do, Bryan; it is wonderful, sure enough.” In a few minutes they arrived at the door; and the old man, recovering as it were a portion of his former intellect, said, “lavin’ this place — these houses — an’ goin’ away — far, far away — to a strange country — to strange people ! an’ to bring me, the ould white-haired grandfather, away from all! that would be cruel; but my son Tom will never do it.” “ Well, at any rate, Bryan,” said his neighbor, “ whether you go or stay, God be wid you. It’s a pity, God knows, that the like of you and your family should leave the country ; and sure if the landlord, as th(*y say, is angry about it, why doesn’t he do what he ought to do? an’ why does he allow that smooth tongued rap to lead him by the nose as he does? Howandiver, as I said, whether you go or stay, Bryan, God be wid you ! ” During all that morning Thomas M’Mahon had been evidently sulfering very deeply from a contern- 462 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. plation of the change that was about take place by the departure of himself and his family from Carri- glass. He had been silent the greater part of the morning, and not unfrequently forced to give away to tears, in which he was joined by his daughters? with the exception of Dora, who, having assumed the office of comforter, felt herself bound to maintain the appearance of a firmness which she did not feck In this mood he was when “grandfather,” as they called him, entered the house, after having been made acquainted with their secret. “ Tom,” said he, approaching his son, “sure you wouldn’t go to bring an ould man away?” ' “Where to, father?” asked the other, a good deal alarmed. “ Why to America, where you’re all goin’ to. Oh ! surely you wouldn’t bring the old man away from the green fields of Carriglass ? Would you lay my white head in a strange land, an’ among a strange people? Would you take poor ould grandfather away from them that expects him down, at Carndhu where they sleep? Carndhu’s a holy churchyard. Sure there never was a Protestant buried in it but one, an’ the next mornin’ there was a boortree bush growin’ out o’ the grave, an’ it’s there yet, to prove the maricle. • Oh! ay, Crandhu’s holy ground, an’ that’s where I must sleep.” These words were uttered with a tone of such earnest and childlike entreaty as rendered them af- fectii g in a most extraordinary degree, and doubly so to those who heard him. Thomas’s eyes, despite of every effort to the contrary, filled with tears. THE EMIGRANTS OP AHADARRA. 463 Ah ! ’’ he exclaimed, “ he has found it out at last; but how can I give him consolation, an’ I stands in need of it so much myself! ” “ Father,” said he, rising and placing the old man in the arm-chair, which for the last half century had been his accustomed seat, “father we will go togeth- er — we will all be wid you. You‘11 not be among strangers — you’ll have your own about you still.” “But what’s takin’ you all away?” “Neglect and injustice, an’ the evil tongues of them that ought to know us betther. The landlord didn’t turn out to be what he ought to be. May God forgive him ! But at any rate I’m sure he has been misled.” “Quid Clievydale,” said his father, “ never was a bad landlord, an’ he’d not become a bad one now. That’s not it.” “ But the ould man’s dead, father, an’ it’s his son we’re spakin’ of.” “ And the son of ould Chevydale must have some- thing good about him. The heart was always right wid his father, an’ every one knows there’s a great deal in true blood. Sooner or later it’ll tell for itself — but what is this ? There was something troublin’ me this minute. Oh ! ay, you’re goin’ away, then, to America; but, mark my words: — I won’t go. You may, but IHl stay here. I won’t lave the green fields of Carriglass for any one. It’s not much I’ll be among them now, an’ it isn’t worth your while to take me from them. Here’s where I was born — here’s where the limbs that’s now Btifi an’ feeble was wanst young and active — 464 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. here’s where the hair that’s white as snow was fair an’ curlin’ like goold — here's where I was young — here’s were I grew ould — among these dark hills and green fields — here you all know is where I was born ; and, in spite o’ you all, here’s where I’ll die.” The old man was much moved by all these recol- lections ; for, as he proceeded the tears fell fast from his aged eyes, and his voice became tremulous and full of sorrow. “ AVasn’t it here, too,” he proceeded, ‘‘that Peggy Slevin, she that was famed far an’ near for her beauty, and that the sweet song was made upon — ‘ Peggy JSTa Laveen ’ — ay — ay, you may think your- selves fine an’ handsome ; but, where was there sich a couple as grandfather and Peggy Na Laveen was then ?” As he uttered these words, his features that had been impressed by grief, were lit up by a smile of that simple and harmless vanity which often attends us to the very grave; after which he proceeded, — “ There, on the side of that hill is the roofiess house where she was born ; an’ there’s not a field or hill about the place that her feet didn’t make holy to me. I remember her well. I see her, an’ I think I hear her voice on the top of Lisbane, ringin’ sweetly across the valley of the Mountain Wather, as I often did. An’ is it to take me away now from all this ? Oh! no, childre’, the white-haired grandfather couldn’t go. He couldn’t lave the ould places — the ould places. If he did, he’d die — he’d die. Oh, don’t for God’s sake, Tom, as you love me ! ” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 465 There was a spirit of helpless entreaty in these la5»t words that touched his son, and indeed all who heard him, to the quick. “ Grandfather dear, be quiet,” he replied ; “ God M-ill direct all things for the best. Don’t cry,” he added, for the oM rafan was crying like an infant; “don’t cry, but be quiet, and everything will be well in time. It’s a great trial, I know; but any change is better than to remain here till we come, like so many others, to beggary. God will support us, father.” The old man wiped his eyes, and seemed as if he had taken comfort from the words of his son; whereas, the fact was, that his mind had altogether passed from the subject; but not without that un- conscious feeling of pain which frequently remains after the recolleciion of that which has occasioned it has passed away. It was evident, from the manner of the old man, that the knowledge of their intended emigration had alarmed into action all the dormant instincts of his nature ; but this was clearly more than they were competent to sustain for any length of time. Neither the tottering frame, nor the feeble mind was strong enough to meet the shock which came so unexpect- edly upon them. The consequence may be easily anticipated. On the following day he was able to be up only for an hour ; yet he was not sick, nor did he Ci)mphiin of any particular pain. His only malady appeared to consist in that last and general prostration of bodily and intellectual strength, by which persons of extreme old age, who have enjoyed 466 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. uninterrupted health, are affected at, or immediately preceding their dissolution. His mind, however, though wandering and unsteady, was vigorous in such manifestations as it made. For instance, it seemed to be impressed by a twofold influence, — the memory of his early life, — mingled with a vague per- ception of present anxiety, the cause of which he oc- casionally was able to remember, but as often tried to recollect in vain. On the second day after his discovery he was un- able to rise at all; but as before he complained of nothing, neither were his spirits depressed. On the contrary they were rather agitated — sometimes into cheerfulness, but more frequently into an expression of sorrow and lamentation, which w’ere, however, blended with old by-gone memories that were pecu- liarly afieeting to those who heard them. In this way he went on, sinking gradually until the day previous to the auction. On that morning, to their surprise, he appeared to have absolutely regained new strength, and to have been gifted with some- thinglike renovated power of speech. “I want to get up,” said he, “and it’s only Tom an’ Dora that I’ll allow to help me. You’re all good, an’ wor always good to grandfather, but Tom was my best son, and signs on it — everything thruv wid him, an’ God will prosper an’ bless him. W here’s Dora?” “ Here, grandfather.” “ Ay, that’s the voice above all o’ them that went like music to my heart ; but well I know, and always did, who you have that voice from ; ay, an’ THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 46T I know whose eyes — an’ it’s them that’s the lovely eyes — Dora has. Isn’t tlie day tine, Dora?” “ It is, grandfather, a beautiful day.” “ Ay, thank God. Well then I want to go out till I look — take one look at the ould places ; for somehow I think ray heart was never so much in them as now,” It is impossible to say how or why the feeling prevailed, but the fact was, that the whole family were impressed with a conviction that this partial and sudden restoration of his powers was merely what is termed the lightening before death, and the consequence was, that every word he spoke occa- sioned their grief, for the loss of the venerable and virtuous patriarch, to break out with greater force. When lie was dressed he called Dora to aid her fa- ther in brincjinor Inni out, which she did with stream- ing eyes and sobbings that she could scarcely re- strain. After l)aving reached a little green emin- ence that commanded a glorious view of the rich country beneath and around them, he called for his chair; ‘‘an’, Bryan,” said he, “the manly and honest- hearted, do you bring it to me. A blessin’ will fol- ly you, Bryan — a blessin’ will folly my manly grandson, that I often had a proud heart out of. An’, Bryan,” he proceeded, when the latter had re- turned with the chair and placed him in it, “listen, Bryan — when you and Kathleen Cavanagh’s mar- ried — but I needn’t say it — where was there one of your name to do an unmanly thing in that respect? — but when you and Kathleen’s married, be to her as your own father was to her that’s gone — 468 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. ever and always kind and lovin’, an’ what your grandfather that’s now spaking to you, maybe for the last time, was to her that’s long, long an angby, uncle. There’s to be an investigation there ; and by the way, allow me to bring Hycy’s anony- mous letter with me — it may serve an honest man 480 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. and help to punish a rogue. What if you would come down with me, and give him the breeze ?” “Well,” replied the uncle, “for the novelty of the thing I don’t care if I d<). I llke^ after all^ to see a rogue punished^ especially when he is not prepared for ity After a little delay they repaired to Chevydale’s house, armed with Hycy’s anonymous letter to Clin- ton, as well as with the document wdiich the old squire, as he was called, had left for Tiiomas M‘Ma- hon and his son. They found the two gentlemen on much better terms tlian one would liave expected ; but, in reality, the state of the country was such as forced them to open their eyes not merely to the lolly of harbouring mere political resentments or senseless party prejudices against each other, but to the absolute necessity that existed for looking closely into the state of their property, and the deplorable condition to which, if they did not take judicious and decisive steps, it must eventually be reduced. They now began to discover a fact which they ought, long since, to have known — viz: — that the condition of the people and tliat of their property was one and the same — perfectly identical in all things; and that a p jor tenantry never yet existed upon a thriving or independent estate, or one that was beneficial to the landlord. Vanston had been with his late opponent for some time before the arrival of Clinton and his nephew; and, as their conversation may not, perhaps, be without some interest to our readers, we shall detail a portion of it. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 481 ‘‘So,’’ said Vanston, “ you are beginning to feel tliat tliere is something wrong on your property, and that your agent is not doing you justice ? ” “ I have reason to suspect,” replied Chevydale, “ that he is neither more nor less than feathering his own nest at the expense of myself and my tenantry. I cannot understand why he is so anxious to get the M’Mahons olf the estate ; a family unquestionably of great honesty, truth, and integrity, and who, I believe, have been on the property before it came into our possession at all. I feel — excuse me, Vans- ton, for the admission, but upon my honor it is truth — I feel, I say, that, in the matter of the election — that is, so far as M’Mahon was concerned, he — my agent — made a cat’s paw of me. lie prevented me from supporting young M’Mahon’s memorial ; he — he — prejudiced me against the family in several ways, and now, that I am acquainted with the cir- cumstances of strong and just indignation against me under which M'Mahon voted, I can’t at all blame him. I would have done the same thing myself.” “There is d d villany somewhere at work,” re- plied Vanston. “ They talk of a fifty-pound note that I am said to have sent to him by post. Now, I pledge my honor as an honest man and a gentleman, that I have sifted and examined all my agents, and am salivsfied that he never received a penny from me. Young Burke did certainly promise to secure me his vote ; but I have discovered Burke to be a most un- principled profligate, corrupt and dishonest. For, you may think it strange that, although he engaged to procure me M’Mahon’s vote, M’Mahon himself, 21 482 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. whom I believe, assured me that he never even asked him for it, until after he had overheard, in the head inn, a conversation concerning himself that filled him with bitter resentment against you and your agent.” “ I remember it,” replied Chevydale, “ and yet my agents told me that Burke did everything in his power to prevent M’Mahon from voting for you.” “ That,” replied the other, “was to preserve his own character from the charge of inconsistency ; for, I again assure you that he had promised us M’Mahon’s vote, and that he urged him privately to vote against you. But d n the scoundrel he is not worth the conversation Ve had about him. Father Magowan, in consequence of whose note to me I wrote to ask you here, states in the communi- cation I had from him, that the parties will be here about twelve o’clock — Burke himself, he thinks, and M’Mahon along with the rest. The priest wishes to have these Hogans driven out of the parish — a wish in which I most cordially join him. I hope we shall soon rid the country of him and his villanous associates. Talking of the country, what is to be done?” “Simply,” replied Chevydale, “that we, the land- ed proprietors of Ireland, should awake out of our slumbers, and forgetting those vile causes of division and subdivision that have hitherto not only dis- united us, but set us together by the ears, we should take counsel among ourselves, and after due and serious deliberation, come to the determination that it is our duty to prevent Irish interests from being THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 483 made subservient to English interests, and from being legislated for upon English princi}»les.” “I hope, Chevydale, you are not about to become a Repealer.” ‘‘No, sir; I am, and ever have been sickened by that great imposture. Another half century would scarcely make us lit for liome legislation. When we look at the conduct of our Irish members in the British Parliament — I allude now, with few excep- tions, to the Repeal members — what hope can we cTitertaiii of honesty and love of country from such men ? When we look, too, at many of our Corpor- ations and strike an average of their honesty and intellect, have we not a right to thank God that the interests of our country are not confided to the management of such an arrogant, corrupt, and vul- gar crew as in general compose them. The truth is, Yanston, we must become national in our own defence, and whilst we repudiate, with a firm con- viction of i he folly on the one hand, and the dis- honesty on the other, of those who talk about Re- peal, we shall find it our best policy to forget the interests of any particular class, and suffer ourselves to melt down into one great principle of national love and good-will towards each other. Let us only become unanimous, and England will respect us as she did when we were unanimous upon other occasions.” “I feel, and am perfectly sensible of the truth of what you say,” replied Yanston, “and I am certain that, in mere self-defence, we must identify ourselves 484 thU emigrants of ahadaiIra. with the people whose interests most unquestiona- bly are ours.” “As to myself,” continued Chevydale, “ I fear I have much to repair in my conduct as an Irish land- lord. I have been too confiding and easy — in fact, I have not thought for niyself ; but been merely good or evil, according to the caprice of the man who managed me, and whom, up until now, I did not suspect.” “ Tiie man, my good friend, is probably not worse in general than otliers,” replied Vanston ; “but the truth is, that there has been such a laxity of man- agement in Irish property— such indifference and neglect upon our part, and such gross ignorance of our duties, that agents were, and in most cases are, at liberty to act as they please in oitr names, and under show of our authority ; you can scarcely sup- pose this man, consequently, much worse than others who are placed in similar circumstances.” The dialogue was here interrupted by the entrance of old Clinton and his nephew ; but, as our readers are already in possession of the proofs they brought against Hycy Burke and Fethertongo, it is not ne^ cessary that we should detail their conversation at full length. “I must confess,” said Clinton, “that I would have some reason to feel ashamed of my part in the transaction with respect to Ahadarra, were it not, in the first place, that I have never been much afflicted with the commodity; and, in tiie next, that tliese transactions are too common to excite any feeling one way or the other.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 485 But you must have known, Clinton,” said Chevy- dale, “that it was a most iniquitous thing in you to enter into a corrupt bargain with a dishonest agent for the property which ypu knew to belong to another man.” “What other man, Mr. Chevydale? Had not M’Mahon’s lease expired?” “ But had you not in your own possession ray father's written promise — written, too, on his death- bed — to these honest men, that they sliould have their leases renew^ed ?” “ Yes, but that was your aghnt’s affair, and his dishonesty, too, not mine.” “ As much yours as his ; and, by the way, I don’t see upon what principle you, who are equally in- volved with him in the profligacy of the transaolion, should come to bear testimony against him now. They say there is honor among thieves, but I see very little of it here.” “Faith, to tell you the truth,” replied Clinton, “as I said to Harry here, because I like to see a rogue punished^ especiallij when he is not prepared for ity “Well,” said Chevydale, with a very solemn iron- ical smile, “I am myself very much of your way of thinking; and, as a proof of it, I beg to say that, as your appointment to the ofiice of Supervisor ))as not yet been made out, I shall write to my bro- tlier, the Commissioner, to take care tliat it never shall. To procure the promotion of a man who can deliberately avow liis participation in such shame- less profligacy would be to identify myself with it. 486 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. You have been doubly treaclierous, Mr. Clinton ; first to me, whom you know to be your friend, and, in the next place, to the unfortunate partner in your villany, and at my expense; for d e if I can call it less. Wliat noise is that?” Clinton the elder here withdrew, and had scarce- ly disappeared wlien two voices were heard in the hall, in a kind of clamorous remonstrance with each other, wliich voices were those of Father Mat^owan and our friend O’Finigan, as we must now call him, inasmuch as he is, although early in the day, ex- panded wuth that hereditary sense of dignity which will not allow the great O to be suppressed. “Behave, and keep quiet, now,” said his Rever- ence, “you unfortunate pedagogue you; I tell you that you are inebriated.” “ Pardon me, your Reverence,” replied O’Fini- gan ; “no/i ebrius sed vino gravatus^ devil a thing more.” “ Get out, you profligate,” replied the priest, “don’t you know that either, at this time o’ day, is too bad ?” “ N'ego^ domine—nego^ Domine reverende — ^de- nial is my pririciple, I say. Do you assert that there’s no difterence between ebrius and gravatus vino?'*'* “ In your case, you reprobate, I do. Where w^ould you get ihe vino? However,” he proceeded, “ as you are seldom sober, and as J know it is pos- sible you may have something of importance to say on a particular subject, I suppose you may as well THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 487 say it now as any other time, and it’s likely we may get more truth out of you.” “ Ay,” said the schoolmaster, “upon the principle that in vino veritas; but you know that gravatus vino and ebrius are two dilFerent things — gravatus vino^ the juice o’ the grape — och, och, as every one knows, could and stupid; but ebrius from blessed poteen, that warms and gives ecstatic nutrition to the heart.” The altercation proceeded for a little, but, after a short remonstrance and bustle, the priest, followed by O'Finigan, entered the room, “ Gentlemen,” said the priest, “ I trust you will excuse me for the society in which I happen to appear before you; but the truth is that this Fini- g-an — ” “Pardon me, your Reverence, O’Finigan if you plaise; we have been shorn of — ” “Well, then, since he will have it so, this O’Fini- gan is really inebriated, and I cannot exactly say why, in this state, his presence can be of any advan- tage to us.” “ lie says,” replied the master, “ that I am ebrius^ whereas I replied, that I was only vino gravatus^ by which I only meant quasi vino gravatus ; but tlie truth is, genllernen, tiiat Pm never properly sober until I’m half seas over — for it is then that I have all iny wits properly about me.” “In fact, gentlemen,*’ ])roceeded the priest, “ in consequence of certain disclosures that have reached me W'itii reference to these Hogans, I deemed it rny duty to bring Nanny Peety before Mr. Chevydale 488 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. here. She is accompanied by Kate Hogan, the wife of one of these ruffians, who refuses to be separated from ner — and insists, consequently, on coming along with her. I don’t exactly know what her motive may be in this; but I am certain she has a motive. It is a gratification to me, however, to find, gentlemen, that you both happen to be present U2)on this occasion. I sent word to Hycy Burke and to Bryan M’Mahon ; for I thought it only fair that Hycy should be present, in order to clear himself in case any charge may be brought against him. I expect M’Mahon, too.” “Let us remove then to my office,” said Chevy- dale — “it is now a few minutes past twelve, and J dare say they will soon be here.” They accordingly did so ; and, as he had said, the parties almost immediately made their appear- ance. “ Now, gentlemen,” said Father Magowan, “ I am of opinion that the best way is for this girl to state what she knows concerning these Hogans ; but I think I can now persave tim raison why Kate Ho- gan has made it a point to come with her. It is quite evident from her manner that slie wishes to intimidate this girl, and to prevent her from stating fully and truly what she knows.” “ No,” replied Kate, “it is no such thing — she must either state the whole truth or nothing; that’s what I want, an’ what she must do — put the saddle on the right horse, Nanny — since you vnll spake.” “ It is a good proverbial illustration,” observed Finigan, “ but I will improve it — put the saddle of THE EMIGRANTS OF AHABARRA. 489 infamy, T say, upon the riglit horse, Nanny. You see, giiulemen,” lie added, turning to the magistrates, “ rny improvement elevates the metaphor — proceed, girsha.'^ “ Gentlemen,” said Hycy, “ I received a note f om Father Magowan informing metliat it was probable certain charges miglit be brouglit against me — or at least some complaints made,” he added, softening the expression — “and I should be glad to know what they are all about, before tliis girl commences formally to state them ; I say so in order thatimay not be taken by surprise.” “You know,” replied the priest, “that you can- not be taken by surprise; because I myself tojd you the substance of the strong suspicions that are against you.” Bryan M’Mahon now entered, and was cordially greeted by Vanston — and we may add rather kindly, in manner at least, by Chevy dale. “ By the way,” asked the former of these gentle- men, “does this investigation bear in any way upon yow interests, M’Mahon?” “ Not, sir, so far as I am aware of — I come here because Father Magowan wished me to come. I liave no interests connected with this country now,” he added in a tone of deep melancholy, “there’s an end to that for ever.” “Now, my good girl,” said Chevydale, “you will state all you know connected with tliese Hogans fully and truly — that is, neither more nor less than the truth,” Allihe truth, Nanny,” said Kate Hogan, in a 490 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. voice of strongly condensed power ; “ Hycy Burke, she proceeded, “ you ruined Bryan M’Malion here — and, by ruinin’ hlm^ you broke Miss Kathleen Cav- anagh’s heart — she’s gone — no docthor could save her now \ and for this you’ll soon know what Kate Hogan can do. Go on, Nairn y.^’ “Well, gintlemen,” Nanny began, “in the first place it was Mr. Hycy here that got the Still up in Ahadarra, in ordher to beggar Bryan M’Mahon by the tine.” Hycy laughed. “Excellent!” said he; “Why, really, Mr. Chevydale, I did not imagine that you could suffer such a farce as this is likely to turn out to be enacted exactly in your office.” “ Enacted ! well, that’s appropriate at any rate,” said the schoolmaster ; “ but in the mane time, Mr. Hycy, take care that the farce won’t become a trag- edy on our hands, and you yourself the hei;o of it. Proceed, girsha.^^ “How do you know,” asked Chevydale, “that this charge is true ? ” “If I don’t know it,” she replied, “my aunt here does, — and I think so does Mr. Harry Clinton an’ others.” “ Pray, my woman, what do you know about this matter?” asked Chevydale, addressing Kate. “ Why that it was Mr. Hycy Burke that gave the Hogans the money to make the Still, set it up — and to Teddy Phats to buy barley; and although he didn’t tell them it was to ruin Bryan M’Mahon he did it, sure they all knew it was— ’spishly when he THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 491 made them change from Glendearg above, where they were far safer, down to Ahadarra.” “ I assure you, gentlemen,” said Hycy, “that the respectability of the witnesses you have fished up is liighly creditable to your judgments and sense of justice; — a common vagabond and notorious thief on the one hand, and a beggarman’s brat on the other. However, proceed — I perceive that I shall be obliged to sink under the force of such testimony — ha ! ha ! ha ! ” At this moment old Jemmy Burke, having acci- dentially heard that morning that such an investi- gation was to take place, and likely to bear upon the conduct of his eldest son, resolved to be present at it, and lie accordingly presented himself as Hycy Lad concluded his observations. The high integrity of his ch iracter was at once recognized — he w^as addressed in terms exceedingly respectful, if not deferential, by the two magistrates — Chevydale liaving at once ordered the servant in attendance to hand him a chair. He thanked him, how^ever, but declined it gratefully, and stood like the rest. In the mean time the investigation proceeded. “ Mr. Burke,” said Chevydale, addressing himself to the old man, whose features, by the way, w^ere full of sorrow and distress — “ it may be as well to state to you that we are not sitting now formally in our magisterial capacity, to investigate any charges that may be brought against your son, but simply making some preliminary inquiries wdth respect to other charges, which we have been given to under- 492 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. stant are about to be brought against the notorious Hogans.” “Don’t lay the blame upon the Hogans,” replied Kate, fiercely— “ the Hogans, bad as people say they are, only acted undher Hycy Burke. It was Hycy Burke.” “But,” said Ch^vydale, probably out of compas- sion for the old man, “ you must know we^are not now investigating Mr. Burke’s conduct.” “Proceed, gintlemen,” said Ids father, firmly but sorrowfully; “I have heard it said too often tiiat he was at the bottom of the plot that ruined Bryan M’Mahon, or that wint near to ruin him; I wish to have that well sifted, gintlemen, and to know the truth.” “ I can swear,” continued Kate, “ that it was him got up the whole plan, and gave them the money for it. I seen him in our house — or, to come nearer the truth, in Gerald Cavanagh’s kiln, where we live — givin’ them the money.” “As you are upon that subject, gentlemen,” ob- served Harry Olinton, “I think it due to the char- acter of Bryan M’Mahon to state that I am in a capacity to prove that Hycy Burke was unquesiion- ably at the bottom — or, in point of fact, tlie origina- tor — of his calamities with reference to the act of illicit distillation, and the fine which he would have been called on to pay, were it not that the Commis- sioners of Excise remitted it.” “Thank you, Mr. Clinton,” replied Hycy; “I find 1 am not mistaken in you — I think you are 493 THE EHIGBANTS OF AHADAHRA. worthy of ypur accoraplipes ” — and he pointed to Kate and Nanny as he spoke — “ proceed.” “ We are passing,” observed Vanston, “from one to another rather irregularly, I fear; don’t you think we had belter hear thU girl fully in the first place ; but, my good girl,” he added, “ you are to understand that we are not here to investigate any charges against Mr. Ilycy Burke, but against the Hogans. You will please then to confine your charges to them.” “ But,” replied Nanny, ‘‘ that’s what I can’t do, plase your honor, widout bringin’ in Hycy Burke too, bekaise himself an’ the Hogans was joined in everything.” “ 1 think, gintlemen,” said the priest, “ the best plan is to let her tell her story in her own way.” “Perhaps so,” said Chevydale; “proceed, young woman, and slate fully and truly whatever you Lave got to say.” “ Well, then,” slie proceeded, “ there’s one thing I know — I know who robbed Mr. Burke here ;” and she pointed to the old man, who started. The magistrates also looked surprised. “How,” said Vanston, turrdng his eyes keenly upon lier, “ you know of the robbery; and pray, how long have you known it ? ” “ Ever since the night it was committed, plaise your honor.” “What a probable story!” exclaimed Hycy; “and you kept it to yourself, like an honest girl as you are, until now ! ” “ Why, Mr. Burke,” said Vanston, quickly and 494 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. rather sharply, “surely you can have no motive in impugning her evidence upon that subject?” Ilycy bit his lip, for he instantly felt that he had overshot himself by almost anticipating the charge, as if it were about to be made against himself; — “ What I think improbable in it,” said Hycy, “is that she should, if in possession of the facts, keep them concealed so long.” “ Oh, never fear, Mr. Hycy, I’ll soon make that . plain enough,” she replied. “But in the mean time,” said Chevydale, “ will you state tlie names of those who did commit the robbery ? ” “ I will,” she replied, “The whole truth, Nanny,” exclaimed Kate. “ It was Bat Hogan, then, that robbed Mr. Burke,” she replied ; “ and — and — ” “ Out wid it,” said Kate. “And who besides, ray good girl?” inquired Vanston. The young woman looked round with compassion upon Jemmy Burke, and the tears started to her eyts. “ I pity she exclaimed, “ I pity him — that good old man ;” and, as she uttered the words, she wept aloud. “This, I fear, is getting rather a serious affair,” said Vanston, in low voice to Chevydale — “I see how the tide is likely to turn.” Chevydale merely nodded, as if he also compre- hended it. “You were about to add some other name ? ” said he ; “ in the mean time compose your- self and proceed.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHAOARRA. 495 Hycy Burke’s face at this moment had become white as a sheet; in fact, to any one of common pentration, guilt and a dread of the coming disclosure were legible in every lineament of it. “ Wlio was the other person you were about to mention ?” asked Vanston. “ Ilis own son, sir, ]\[r. Ilycy Burke, there.” “ Ila! ” exclaimed Chevydale ; “ Mr. Hycy Burke, do you say ? Mr. Burke,’’ he added, addressing that gentleman, “ how is this ? Here is a grave and serious charge against you. “What have you to say to it ? ” “ That it would be both grave and serious,” re- plied Hycy, “ if it possessed but one simple element, without which all evi dence is vahieless — I mean truth. All I can say is, that she might just as well name either of yourselves, gentlemen, as me.” “ How do you know that Hogan committed the robbery?” asked Hycy. “ Simply bekaise I seen him. He broke open the big chest above stairs.” “ How did you see him ?” asked Vanston. “ Tlirough a hole in the partition,” she replied, “ where a knot of the deal boards had come out. I slep’, plaise your honor, in a little closet off o’ the room the money was in.” “Is it true that she slept there, Mr. Burke?” asked Vanston of the old man. “ It is thrue, sir, God help me ; that at all events is thrue.” “Well, proceed,” said Chevydale. “I then threw my gown about my shoulders; but 496 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARBA. in risin’ from my bed it creaked a little, an’ Bat Hogan, who had jest let down the lid of the che>t aisily when he hard the noise, blew out the bit of candle that he had in his hand, and picked his way down stairs as aisily as he could. I foileyed him on my tippy-toes, an’ when he came opposite the door of the room where the masther an’ misthress sleep, the door opened, an’ the mistress wid a candle in her hand met him fuU-V)ut in the teeth. I was above upon the stairs at the time, but from the way an’ the place she stood in, the light didn’t rache me, so that I could see them widout bein’ seen myself. Well, when the mistress met him she was goin’ to bawl out wid terror, an’ would too, only that Masther Ilycy flew to her, put his hand on her mouth, an’ whispered something in her ear. He then went over to Bat, and got a large shafe of bank-notes from him, an’ motioned him to be ofl* wid himself, an’ that he’d see him to morrow. Bat went down in the dark, an’ Hycy an’ his mother had some conversa- tion in a low voice on the lobby. She seemed angry, an’ he was speakin’ soft an’ strivin’ to put her into good humor again. I then slipt back to bed, but the never a wink could I get till raornin’ ; an’ when I went down, the first thing I saw was Bat Hogan’s shoes. It was hardly light at the time; but at anj’^ rate Ibid them where they couldn’t begot, an’ it was well I did, for the first thing I saw was Bat himself peerin’ about the street and yard, like a man that was lookin’ for something that he had lost.” ‘‘ But how did you know that the shoes were Hogan’s?” asked Vanston. THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 497 Why, your honor, any one that ever seen the man might know tiiat. One of his heels is a trifle shorter than the other, which makes him halt a lit- tle, an’ he has a buunion as big as an egg on the other foot.” “Ay, Nanny,” said Kate, “ that’s the truth; but I can tell you more, gentlemen. On the evenin’ be- fore, when Mr. Ilycy came home, he made up the plan to rob his father wid Phil Hogan; but Phil got drunk that night an’ Bat had to go in his place. Mr. Ilyey promised to see the Hogans that mornin’ at his father’s, about ten o’clock; but when they went he had gone off to Ballyrnacan ; an’ as they expected liirn every minute, they stayed about the place in spite o’ the family, an’ mended everything they could lay their hands on. Bat an’ Mr. Ilycy met tiiat night in Teddy Phats’s still-house, in Glendto-g, an’ went home together across the mountains afther- ward.” “Well, Mr. Burke, what have you to say to this ?” asked Chevydale. “ Why,” replied Hycy, “ that it’s a very respect- able conspiracy as it stands, supported by the thief and vagabond, and the beggar’s brat.” “Was there any investigation at the time of its occurrence?” asked Vanston. “Tiiere was, your honor,” replied Nanny; “it was proved clearly enough that Phil and Ned Ho- gan were both dead drunk that night an’ couldn’t commit a robbery ; an’ Masther Hycy himself said that he knew how Bat spent the night, an’ that of course Ae couldn’t do it; an’ you know, your honors, 498 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADAPwRA. there was no gettin’ over that. I have, or rather my father has, Bat Hogan’s shoes still.” “This, I ref)eat, seems a very serious charge, Mr. Burke,” said Chevydale again. “ Which, as I said before, contains not one parti- cle of truth,” replied Ilycy. “ If I had resolved to bivak open my father’s chest to get cash out of it, it is not likely that I would call in the aid of such a man as Bat Hogan. As a proof that I had nothing to do with the robbery in question, I can satisfy you that my mother, not many days after the occurrence of it, was obliged to get her car and drive some three or four miles’ distance to borrow a hundred pounds for me from a friend of hers, upon her own responsibility, which, had I committed the outrage in question, I would not have required at all.” Old Burke’s face would, at this period of the pro- ceedings, have extorted compassion from any heart. Sorrow, distress, agony of spirit, and shame, were all so legible in his pale features — that those who were present kept tlieir eyes averted, from respect to the man, and from sympathy with his sufierings. At length he himself came forward, and, alter wiping away a few bitter tears from his cheeks, he said — “ Gentlemen, I care little about the money I lost, nor about who took it — let it go — as for me, I won’t miss it; but there is one thing that cuts me to the heart — I’m spikin’ about the misfortune that was brought, or near bein’ brought, upon this honest an’ generous-hearted young man, Bryan M'Mahon, through manes of a black plot that was got up against him — I’m spakin’ of the Still that was found THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 499 on his farm of Ahadarra. That^ if niy son had act or part in it, is a thousand times worse than the other; as for the takin’ of the money, I don’t care about it, as I said — nor I won’t prosecute any one for it; but I must have my mind satisfied about the other affair.” It is not our intention to dwell at any length upon the clear proofs of his treachery and deceit, which were established against him by Harry Clinton, who produced the anonymous letter to his uncle, — brought home to him as it was by his own evidence and that of Nanny Peety. There is, however,” said Vanston, “ another cir- cumstance affecting the reputation and honesty of Mr. Bryan M’Mahon, wliich in your presence, Mr. M'Gowan, I am anxious to set at rest. I have al- readv contradicted it with* indignation wherever I have heard it, and I am the more anxious to do so now, whilst M’Mahon and Burke are present, and be- cause I have been given to understand that you de- nounced him — M’Mahon — with such hostility from the altar, as almost occasioned him to be put to death in the house of God.” ‘‘You are undher a mistake there. Major Van- Bton, with great respect,” replied the priest. “ It wasn’t I but my senior curate, Father M'Pepper ; and he has already been reprimanded by his Bishop.” “Well,” replied the other, “I am glad to hear it. However, I now solemnly declare, as an honest man and an Irish gentleman, ti»at neither I, nor any one for me, with my knowledge, ever gave or 500 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. sent any money to Bryan M’Mahon ; but perhaps we may ascertain who did. M’Mahon, liave you got the letter about you ? ” “ I have, sir,” replied Bryan, “and the bank-note, too.” “You will find the frank and address both in your own handwriting,” said Hycy. “It w^as I brought him the letter from the post-office.” “Show me tlie letter if you plaise,” said Nanny, who, after looking first at it and then at Hycy, added, “and it was I gave it this little tear near the corner, and dhrew three scrapes of a pin across the paper, an’ there they are yet; an’ now I can take my oath that it was Mr. Hycy that sent that let- ther to Bryan M’Mahon — an’ your Reverence is tlie very man I showed it to, and that tould me who it was goin’ to, in the street of Ballymacan.” On a close inspection of tlie letter it was clearly obvious that, although there appeared at a cursory glance a strong resemblance between the frank and the address, yet the difference was too plain to be mistaken. “If there is further evidence necessary,” said Vanston, looking at Hycy significantly, “my agent can produce it, — and he is now in the house.” “I think you would not venture on that,” replied Hycy. “Don’t be too sure of that,” said the other, de- terminedly. “Sir,” replied Father Magowan, “there is nothing further on that point necessary — tlie proof is plain and clear; and now, Bryan M’Mahon, give me your 501 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. hand, for it is that of an honest man — I am proud to see that you stand pure and unsullied again ; and it shall be ray duty to s6e that justice shall be render- ed you, and ample compensation made for ail that you have suffered.” “ Thank you, sir,” replied Bryan, with an air of deep dejection, ‘‘but I arn sorry to say it is now too late — I am done with the country, and with those that misrepresented me, for ever.” Chevydale looked at him with deep attention for a moment, then whispered something to Vanston, who smiled, and nodded his head approvingly. Jemmy Burke now prepared to go. “ Good mor- nin’, gintlemen,” he said, “ I am glad to see the honest name cleared and set right, as it ought to be; but as for myself, I lave you wid a heavy — wid a breakin’ heart.” As he disappeared at the door, Ilycy rushed after him, exclainiing, “ Father, listen to me — don’t go yei till you hear my defence. I will go and fetch liirn back, he exclaimed — “he must hear what I have to say for myself.” lie overtook his father at the bottom of the liall steps. “ Give me a hundred pounds,” said he, “and you will never see my face again.” ‘* There is two hundre’,” said his father; “I ex- pected tliis. Your motlier confessed all to me this niornin’, bekaise she knew it would come out liere, I suppose. Go now, for undher my roof you’ll never come again. If you can, — ref)rrn your life — aiT live, at all events, as if there was a God above you. 502 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. Before you go, answer me ; — what made you bring in Bat Hogan to rob me “ Simply,” replied his son, “ because I wished to make him and them feel that I had them in my power — and now you have it.” Hycy received the money, set spurs to his horse, and was out of sight in a moment — “ Ah ! ” exclaim- ed the old man, with bitterness of soul, what mightn’t lie be if his weak and foolish mother liadn’t taken it into her head to make a gentleman of him ! But now she reaps as she sowed. She’s punished — an’ that’s enough.” — And thus does Ilyey the accomplished make his exit from our humble stage. “ Gintlemen,” said Finigan, now that the ac- complished Mr. Hycy is disposed of, I beg to state, that it will be productiv^e of much public good to the country to expatriate these three virtuous wor- thies, qui nomine gamlent Hogan — and the more so as it can be done on clear legal grounds. They are a principal means of driving this respectable young man, Bryan M’Mahon, and his father’s family, out of the land of their birth ; and there will be some- thing extremely appropriate — and indicative besides of condign and retributive punishment — in sending them on their travels at his Majesty’s expense. I am here, in connection with others, to furnish you with the necessary proof against them; and I am of opinion that the sooner they are sent upon a voyage of discovery it will be so much the better for the rejoicing neighborhood they will leave be- hind them.” THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 603 The ])int was immediately taken with respect to them and Vincent, all of whom had been engaged in coining under Hycy’s auspices — they were appre- hended and imprisoned, the chief evidence against them being Teddy Phats, Peety Dhu, and Finigan, who for once became a stag, as he called it. They were indicted for a capital felony ; but the prosecu- tion having been postponed for want of sufficient evidence, they were kept in durance until next as- sizes; — having found it impossible to procure bail. In the mean time new charges of utteritjg base coin came thick and strong against them ; and as the Crown lawyers found that they could not succeed on the capital indictment — nor indeed did they wish to do so— they tried them on the lighter one, and succeeded in getting sentence of transportation passed against every one of them, with the exception of Kate Hogan alone. — So that, as Fiui- gan afterwards said, instead of Bryan M’Mahon, it was they themselves that became “ the Emigrants of Ahadarra,” at the king’s expense — and Mr. Hycy at hift own. 604 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. CHAPTER XXVII. CONCLUSION. How Kathleen Cavanagh spent the time that elapsed between the period at which she last ap- peared to our readers and the present may be easily gathered from what we are about to write. We have said already that her father, upon the strength of some expressions uttered in a spirit of distraction and agony, assured Jemmy Burke that she had con- sented to marry his son Edward, after a given period. Honest Jemmy, however, never for a moment suspected the nature of the basis upon which his worthy neighbor had erected the super- structure of his narrative; but at the same time he felt sadly puzzled by the melancholy and declining appearance of her whom he looked upon as his future daughter-in-law. The truth was that scarcely any of her acquaintances could recognize her as the same majestic, tall, and beautiful girl whom they had known before this heavy disappointment had come on her. Her exquisite figure had lost most of its roundness, her eye no longer flashed with its dark mellow lustre, and her cheek — her damask cheek — distress and despair had fed upon it, until little remained there but the hue of death itself. Her health in fact was evidently beginning to go. Her appetite had abandoned her; she slept little, THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 505 and that little was restless and unrefreshing. All her family, with the exception of her father and mother, who sustained themselves with the silly ambition of their daughter being able to keep her jiun ting-car — for her father had made that point a sine qua non — all,' we say, with the above excep- tions, became seriously alarmed at the state of her mind and health. ‘‘Kathleen, dear,” said her affectionate sister, “I think you have carried your feelings against Bryan far enough.” “My feelings against Bryan!” she exclaimed. “ Yes,” proceeded her sister, “ I think you ought to forgive him.” “Ah, Hanna darling, how little you know of your sister’s heart. I have long since forgiven him, Hanna.” “ Then what’s to prevent you from making up with him ? ” “ I have long since forgiven him, Hanna ; but, my dear sister, I never can nor will think for a moment of marrying any man that has failed, when brought to the trial, in honest and steadfast principle — the man that would call me wife should be upright, pure, and free from every stain of corruption — he must have no disgrace nor dishonor upon his name, and he must feel the love of his religion and his country as the great ruling principles of his life. I have long since forgiven Bryan, but it is because he is not what I hoped he was, and what I wished him to be, that I am as you see me.” 22 606 THE EMIGEANTS OF AHADARRA. “ Then you do intend to marry ? ” asked Hanna, with a smile. “ Why do you ask that, Hanna ? ” ‘‘ Why, because you’ve given me sich a fine (de- scription of the kind o’ man your husband is to heP “ Hanna,” she replied, solemnly, “ look at my cheek, look at my eye, look at my whole figure, and then ask me that question again if you can. Don’t you see, darling, that death is upon me ? I feel it.” Her loving and beloved sister threw her arms around her neck, and burst into an irrepressible fit of bitter grief. Oh, you are changed, most woefully, Kathleen, darlin’,” she exclaimed, kissing her tenderly ; ‘‘but if you could only bear up now, time would set everything right, and bring you about right, as it will still, I hope.” Her sister mused for some time, and then ad(Jed — “I think I could bear up yet if he was to stay in the country ; but when I recollcet that he’s going to to another land — for ever — I feel that my heart is broken: as it is, his disgrace and that thought are both killin’ me. To-morrow the auction comes on, and then he goes — ^after that I will never see him. I’m afraid, Hanna, that I’ll have to go to bed ; I feel that I’m hardly able to sit up.” Hanna once more pressed her to her heart and wept. “ Don’t cry, Hanna dear — don’t cry for me ; the bitterest part of my fate will be partin’ from you.” Hanna here pressed her again and wept aloud, whilst her spotless and great-minded sister consoled THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 501 her as well as she could. “ Oh, what would become of me!” exclaimeil Hanna, sobbing; ‘‘if anything was to happen you, or take you away from me, it would break my heart, too, and I’d die.” “ Hanna,” said her sister, not encouraging her to proceed any further on that distressing subject ; “ on to-morrow, the time I allowed for Bryan to clear himself, if he could, will be up, and I have only to beg that you’ll do all you can to prevent my father and mother from distressing me about Edward Burke ; I will never marry him, but I expect to see him your husband yet, and I think he’s worthy of you — that’s saying a great deal, I know. You love l]im, Hanna — I know it, and he loves you, Hanna, for he told me so the last day but one he was here ; — you remember they all went out, and left us together, and then he told me all.” Hanna’s face and neck became crimson, and she was about to reply, when a rather loud but good- humored voice was heard in the kitchen, for this dialogue took place in the parlor — exclaiming, “ God save all here! How dp you do, Mrs. Cavanagh? How is Gerald and the youngsters ?” “ Indeed all middlin’ well, tliank your reverence, barriii’ our eldest girl that’s a little low spirited for some time p.ist.” “ Ay, ay, I know the cause ot that — it’s no secret — where is she now? If she’s in the house let me see her.” The two sisters having composed their dress a little and their features, immediately made their appearance. 508 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. “ God be good to us!” he exclaimed, “here’s a change! Why, may I never sin, if I’d know her no more than the mother that bore her. Lord guard us ! look at this! Do you give her nolhing, Mrs. Cavanagh ? ” “ Nothing on airth,” she replied ; “ her complaint’s upon the spirits, an’ we didn’t think that physic stuff would be of any use to her.” “ Well, perhaps I will find a cure for her. Listen to me, darling. Your sweetheart’s name and fame are cleared, and Bryan M’Mahon is what he ever was — an honest an’ upright young man.” Kathleen started, looked around her, as if with amazement, and without seeming to know exactly what she did, went towards the door, and was about to walk out, when Hanna, detaining her, asked with alarm — “Kathleen, what ails you, dear? Where are you going ? ” “ Goirjg,” she replied ; “ I was going to — where ? — why? — what — what has happened?” “ The news came upon her too much by surprise,” said Hanna, looking toward^ the priest. “ Kathleen, dartin’,” exclaimed her mother, “ try and compose yourself. Lord guard us, what can ail her ? ” “ Let her come with me into the parlor, mother, an’ do you an’ Father Magowan stay where you are.” They accordingly went in, and after about the space of ten minutes she recovered herself so far as to make Hanna repeat the intelligence which the simple-hearted priest had, with so little preparation, THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 509 communicated. Having listened to it earnestly, she laid her head upon Hanna’s bosom and indulged in a long fit of quiet atul joyful grief. When she had recovered a little, Father Magowan entered at more length into the circumstances connected with the changes that had affected her lover’s character so deeply, after which he wound up by giving expres- sion to the following determination — a determina- tion, by the way, which we earnestly recommend to all the politicians of his profession. ‘‘As for my part,” said he, “it has opened my eyes to one thing that I wmn’t forget: — a single word of p olitics I shall never suffer to be preached from the altar while I live; neither shall [ allow denouncements for political offences. The altar, as the bishop told me — and a hard rap he gave Mr. M’Pepper across the knuckles for Bryan’s affair — ‘the altar,’ said he, ‘isn’t the place for politics, but for religion ; an’ I hope I may never hear of its being desecrated with politics again,’ said his lord- ship, an’ neither I w^ill, I assure you.” The intelligence of the unexpected change that had taken place in favor of the M’Mahons, did not reach them on that day, which was the same, as we have stated, on which their grandfather departed this life. The relief felt by Thomas M’Mahon at^d liis family at this old man’s death, took nothing from the sorrow which weighed them down so heavily in consequence of their separation from the abode of their forefathers and the place of their birth. They knew, or at least they took it for granted that their grandfather would never 510 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. have borne the long voyage across the Atlantic, a circumstance which distressed them very much. His death, however, exhibiting as it did, the und}"- ing attachment to home which nothing else could extinguish, only kindled the same afFection more strongly and tenderly iu their hearts. The account of it had gone abroad through the neighbourhood, and with it the intelligence that the auction would be postponed until that day week. And now that he was gone, all their hearts turned with sorrow and sympathy to the deep and almost agonizing strug- gles which their coming departure caused their father to contend with. Bryan, whose calm but manly firm- ness sustained them all, absolutely feared that his courage would fail him, or that his very healtii would break down. He also felt for his heroic little sister, Dora, who, although too resolute to complain or urge her own sufi[erings, did not endure the less on that account. “My dear Dora,” said he, after their grandfather had been laid out, “I know what you are suffering, but what can I do? This split between tiie Cava- naghs and us has put it out of my power to serve you as I had intended. It was my wish to see you and James Cavanagh married; but God knows I pity you from my heart ; for, my dear Dora, there’s no use in denyin’ it, I understand too well what you feel.” “ Don’t fret for me, Bryan,” she replied ; “ I’m willin’ to bear my share of the afidiction that has come upon the family, rather than do anything mane or unworthy. I know it goes hard with me to give THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 511 up James and lave him for ever ; but then T see that it must be done, and that I must submit to it. May God stengihen and enable me ! and that’s my earnest prayer. I also often prayed that you an’ Kathleen might be reconciled ; but I wasn’t heard, it seems. I sometimes think that you ought to go to her; but then on second thoughts I can hardly advise you to do so.” “ No, Dora, I never will, dear; she ought to have heard me as you said face to face ; instead o’ that she condemned me without a bearin’. An’ yet, Dora,” he added, “ little she knows — little she drarnes, what I’m sufferin’ on her account, and how I love her — more now than ever, I think ; she’s so changed, they say, that you could scarcely know her.” As he spoke, a single tear 1‘ell upon Dora’s hand which he held in his. “ Come, Bryan,” she said, assuming a cheerfulness wdiich she did not feel, ‘‘ don’t have it to say that little Dora, who ought and does look up to you for support, must begin to support you herself; to-mor- row’s the last day — who knows but she may relent yet?” Bryan smiled faintly, then patted her head, and said, ‘‘darling little Dora, the wealth of nations couldn’t purchase you.” “Not to do anything mane or wrong, at any rate,” she replied ; after w‘hich she went in to attend to the affairs of the family, for this conversation took place in the garden. As evening approached, a deep gloom, the conse- quence of strong inward suffering, overspread the features and bearing of Thomas M’Mahon. For 512 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. some time past, he had almost given himself overtc the influence of what he experienced — a fact that W’as observable in many ways, all more or less tend- ing to revive the aflection which he felt for his de- parted wife. For instance, ever since their minds liad been made up to emigrate, he had watched, and tended, and fed Bracky^ her favorite cow, with his own hands ; nor would he suffer any one else in the family to go near her, with the exception of Dora, by whom s’ne had been milked ever since her mother’s death, and to whom the poor animal had now transferred her affection. He also cleaned and oiled her spin- ning-wheel, examined her cloths, and kept himself perpetually engaged in looking at every object that was calculated to bring her once more before his imagination. About a couple of hours before sunset, without saying where he was going, he sauntered down to the graveyard of Carndhu where she lay, and hav- ing first uncovered his head and offered up a prayer fur the repose of her soul, he wept bitterly. “ Bridget ’’ said he, in that strong figurative Ian- guage so frequently used by the Irish, when under the influence of deep emotion ; “ Bridget, wife of my heart, you are removed from the thrials and throubles of this world — from the thrials and troubles that have come upon us. I’m come, now — your own husband — him that loved you beyant everything on this earth, to tell you why the last wish o’ my heart, which was to sleep where I ought to sleep, by your side, can’t be granted to me, and to explain to you why it is, in case you’d miss me from my place be- THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 513 side you. This unfortunate counthry, Bridget, has changed, an’ is cliangin’ fast for the worse. The landlord hasn’t proved himself to be towards us what he ought to be, and what we expect- ed he would ; an’, so rather than remain at the terms he axes from us, it’s better for us to thry our fortune in America ; bekaise, if we stay here, we must only come to poverty an’ destitution, an’ sorrow ; an’ you know how it ’ud break my heart to see our childre’ brought to that, in the very place where they wor always respected. They’re all good to me, as they ever wor to us both, acushla machree; but poor Bryan, that you loved so much — your favorite and your pride — has had much to suffer, darlin’, since you left us ; but blessed be God, he bears it manfully and patiently, although I can see by the sorrow on my boy’s brow that the heart widin him is breakin’. He’s not, afther all, to be married, as you hoped and wishe i he would, to Kathleen Cavanagh. Her mind has been poisoned against him; but little she knows him, or she’d not turn from him as she did. An’ now, Bridget, asthore machree, is it come to this wid me ? I must lave you for ever. I must lave — as my father said, that went this day to heaven as you know, now — I must lave, as he said, the ould places. I must go to a strange country, and sleep among a strange people; but it’s for the sake of our childre’ I do so lavin’ you alone tiiere where you’re sleepin’ ? I wouldn’t lave you if I could help it; but we’ll meet yet in heaven, my blessed wife, where there won’t be distress, or in- justice, or sorrow to part us. Achora machree, Fm 514 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. come, then, to take my last farewell of you. Fare- well, then, my darlin’ wife, till we meet for ever- more in heaven ! ” He departed from the grave slowly, and returned in dtep sorrow to his own house. About twelve o’clock the next morning, the family and those neighbors who were assembled as usual at the wake-house, from respect to the dead, were a good deal surprised by the appearance of Mr. Yanston and their landlord, both of whom entered the house. “ Gentlemen, you’re welcome,” said old M’Mahon ; “ but I’m sorry to say that it’s to a house of grief and throuble I must welcome you — death’s here, gentlemen, and more than death ; but God’s will be done, w'e must be obaidient.” “ M’Mahon,” said Chevydale, ‘‘ give me your hand. I am sorry that either you or your son have suffered anything on my account. I am come now to render you an act of justice — to compensate both you and him, as far as I can, for the anxiety you have endured. Consider yourselves both, therefore, as restored to your farms at the terms you proposed originally. I shall have leases prepared — give up the notion of emigration — the country cannot spare such men as you and your admirable son. I shall have leases I say jirepared, and you will be under no necessity of leaving either Carriglass or Aha- darra.” Need we describe the effect which such a com- munication had upon this sterling-hearted family ? Need v/e assure our readers that the weight was re- THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. 616 moved from all their hearts, and the cloud from every brow ? Is it necessary to add that Bryan M'JMahon and his high-minded Katlileen were mar- ried ? that Dora and James followed their example, and that Edward Burke, in due time, bestowed Ids hand upon sweet and affectionate Hanna Cavanagh? We have little now to add. Young Clinton, in the course of a few months, became agent to Chevy- ' dale, whose property soon gave pro^'fs that kind- ness, good judgment, and upright principle were best calculated not only to improve it, but to place a landlord and his tenantry on that footing of mutual good-will and reciprocal interest upon which they should ever stand towards each other. We need scarcely say that the sympathy felt for honest Jemmy Burke, in consequence of the dis- graceful conduct of his son, was deep and general, lie himself did not recover it for a long period, and it was observed that, in future, not one of his friends ever uttered Hycy’s name in his presence. With respect to that young gentleman’s fate and that of Teddy Phats, we have to record a rather re- markable coincidence. In about three years after his escape, his father received an account of his death from Montreal, where it appears he expired under circumstances of great wretchedness and des- titution, after having led, during his residence there, a most profligate and disgraceful life. Early the same day on which the intelligence of his death reached his family, they also received an account through the M’Mahons to the efiect that Teddy 516 THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. Phats had, on the preceding night, fallen from one of the clifis of Althadawan and broken his neck ; a fate which occasioned neither surprise nor sorrow. We have only to add that Bryan M’Mahon and his wife took Nanny Peety into their service ; and that Kate Hogan and Mr. O’Finigan had always a comfortable seat at their hospitable hearth ; and the latter a warm glass of punch occasionally, for the purpose, as he said himself, of keeping him pro- perly sober. t r;Vi \.:- / ' ? ■ y' f y \ ■V \,